These Three Kings
by Miss Bright
Summary: Matt has always preferred fantasy to reality. But when the Wammy trio is accidentally blasted 3333 years into the past on the eve of Takada's kidnapping, the gaming genius realizes too late he should be more careful what he wishes for. AU.
1. The Witching Hour

**A/N: **The countdown till Halloween has just begun, so here's a fic to commemorate the holiday, the Wammy boys… and one of the most awe-inspiring historical figures to date.

I was originally planning to do a collection of one-shots, but I've decided that a short, multi-chap fic would work better for the plot I had in mind. So now I present to you… this! Enjoy (:

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**Chapter 1: The Witching Hour**

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"Matt," Mello said hoarsely. "Come here."

The goggled teen didn't even stir. His rust-colored head was bent reverently over his silent game console; its batteries had unfortunately died a few hours ago. There was no point in replacing them now, not when the hardcore gamer would soon join them in their dormancy.

But Mello didn't need to know that.

Matt continued to pound away at the tiny buttons, visualizing imaginary pixels dancing across the blackened screen.

"Please?"

The redhead finally lifted his face, only to be greeted by Mello's pained expression. "Fine," he muttered, relenting. "But only because you said the magic word."

Mello cracked a brief smile. Matt winced. In the low lighting provided by the myriad of melting candles surrounding the two young men, the blond's scar was more pronounced than ever.

"They say when an atheist prays," Mello murmured, fingering the garnet beads that trailed down his chest, "miracles occur."

"Who was the idiot that made _that_ up?"

Mello didn't answer, but his hardening eyes gave it away. Matt reluctantly sank down to his knees beside his mate with his gloved hands in his lap. Soon, the duo's hushed prayers swept through the bare-walled room like a soft wind. Somewhere nearby, outside in the heart of Tokyo, a bell tower chimed.

Once, twice... five times, six.

Matt wasn't superstitious, but he did like to pretend.

Ten times, eleven.

_The witching hour, _as the English called it.

Matt found himself drifting off into a place that consisted of secluded, slush-slicked roads and twinkling lights. The electric aura of Japan frightened him; he longed for nothing more than to return to Wammy's once more, where everything was familiar and comfortable and most importantly, far away from NHN and Kira's spokesperson.

_Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our…_

Mello's recitations suddenly ceased, and Matt's head snapped up, chastised. "Death," the redhead added hurriedly. "Amen."

His companion's mouth twitched. Whether it was in amusement or scorn, he couldn't tell. "You can't fool me."

Matt was caught off guard. "W-What are you talking about?"

"I know you're getting cold feet."

His throat clenched. "No, you're wrong. I'm just... I'm just scared. Is that a crime?"

"Fear is a luxury we cannot afford," Mello said quietly, climbing to his feet. "But rest assured you will not die."

Matt stared after him balefully, watching his friend's leather-clad back retreat into the next room. "You can't promise that."

The next hour came and went; Matt was trying, but failing, to work up the courage to apologize to Mello. He eventually slumped down against the wall, reaching into his vest for a nicotine fix. He was too emotionally drained to think, let alone speak, yet there would be no rest for him tonight.

Mello was the first to notice that something was off.

When the blond slipped into the room, Matt perked up immediately. Mello's face was a picture of pure bewilderment. He had never seen him like this before, and it scared Matt half to death – although he was already well on his way there.

"What time is it?"

Matt paused to think. "Just after midnight, I suppose."

"Our phones say differently," Mello declared, tossing him a pair of mobiles. Matt rose to his feet and caught both of them against his chest, which, for some reason, was beginning to feel strangely damp and restricted.

Matt's eyes narrowed at the sight of the offending digits displayed. They were stuck one hour behind. "That's funny. I guess you can't even trust technology these days," he mumbled, stuffing the cell phones into his pocket. Then he frowned, wiping his sweaty palms on the side of his jeans. "Is it just me, or is it getting kind of warm in here?"

"It's just you," Mello started to say, but then stopped. "You're right. The heater's probably broken again. This is a condemned apartment, after all."

As if to prove the genius' statement, a diminutive rattling noise issued from somewhere by their feet.

"See?"

Just at that moment, Matt's eyes widened. He dove for Mello's Beretta, which currently perched atop the makeshift cardboard table in the centre of the room. With a snarl, he swung the weapon toward his friend's direction.

Mello recoiled in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared.

"Saving your life," Matt growled, and he promptly emptied the gun.

The opposite wall was instantly sprayed with bullets; bits of plaster flew into the air along with dust, blood...

…and one very large, very dead horned viper.

Mello let out a string of curses. "Since when does Japan play host to African snakes?" the blond panted harshly, stepping over the bleeding serpent to join Matt's side.

The goggled teen shook his head wordlessly, opting to point at the curtained windows instead.

Mello took the hint and yanked the moth-eaten sheets apart. Hot, blinding light flooded the previously dark room, rendering the stubs of flickering candles useless. Matt tore off his goggles in shock, peering out of the suddenly glassless window.

What used to be a sprawl of glowing, neon-colored buildings and shimmering streets had become an expanse of sand and water.

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**A/N: Hmm, does anyone know where I'm going with this? Hint: subtract 3333 from the year 2010.**

**Reviews would be awesome :D**


	2. Oasis

**A/N: **These chapters are fairly short compared to what I usually write, so I'll be updating this about every other day until Halloween :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Death Note cast; this story will also contain historical figures.

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**Chapter 2: Oasis**

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"Impossible," Matt breathed. "Pinch me, I must be dreaming." But deep down, he knew that what was before their very eyes was no hallucination.

The sky, which had previously been sprinkled with stars, was now a rich, clear blue. Thick clouds billowed over the horizon like overgrown cotton plants, looming above the endless acres of sand, small rocky cliffs and wild vegetation. In the centre of it all was a trenched band of water snaking through the emerald foliage, stretching as far as and beyond the naked human eye could see.

Matt wasn't too fond of the outdoors, but _this…_

This was no ordinary backyard – _this_ was virtually a dream come true.

The redheaded genius didn't even realize he had said that out loud until his blond companion shot him a look of disapproval. "Are you kidding me? We have absolutely _no _fucking idea of what's going on."

"Maybe," Matt murmured vaguely.

Mello threw the curtains back with a growl, obscuring the ancient oasis from sight. "Snap out of it. This is worse than Kira." The older man began to pace around the dingy apartment. "The first thing we need to do is figure out how to get _back_."

"What?" The gamer was horrified. "But we just got here!"

Mello's eyes became narrow slits of ice. "Stop acting like this is some kind of vacation, Matt. We're dealing with forces that are beyond our current comprehension."

The redhead snorted, despite himself. "The _Shinigami _are forces that are beyond our so-called current comprehension, mate."

"Death Gods are nothing," Mello muttered.

"Well, I'd rather stick around for a while longer, thank you very much."

An awkward silence followed the younger man's words. Mello finally sighed and snagged his gun away from the trigger-happy gamer. "Did you have to use up _all_ the ammo?" the blond griped, checking the weapon's chamber and ignoring Matt's blatant display of weakness.

The redhead gave a non-committal grunt, snapping his goggles back into its rightful place before fishing out the dead game console from his pocket. Nope, the batteries hadn't been affected by the time rift or whatever it was. Pity.

The pair of friends finally decided to venture out into the mysterious desert. It had been a tough choice to make: either they try their luck with the scorching sun, or with the horde of nocturnal creatures that were sure to be lying in wait for the men's blood. Mello had preferred the former, and Matt had agreed with him wholeheartedly.

It was time to find some answers.

Mello was in the middle of lacing up his combat boots when the apartment's plumbing began emitting a grating, hair-raising screech. The walls and floor shook violently in response, sending Mello's prayer candles toppling over like dominos. Fortunately, the tiny flames were instantly snuffed out when they came into contact with the carpet.

Matt whirled around, balancing on the balls of his feet. "What was that?"

"It's probably an earthquake," Mello replied grimly, staggering to the window to confirm his suspicions. Matt stumbled over to the blond's side.

_Oh shit_.

The already-condemned complex that they had been residing in for the last few days was sinking rapidly into the ground – or more accurately, the _quicksand_. Within seconds, the golden gunk spilled over the windowsill and began leaking down the plaster and across the floor like thick molasses.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!"

Mello ran to the door, smashing his gloved fists into the rotting wood. Streams of mud began spewing through the fresh holes that the hotheaded blond had just created.

"Mello, stop it!" Matt shouted over the noise of the crumbling, groaning structure. "It's no use! The bathroom is the only place without a window, come on!"

But it was already too late.

Both men were thrown clear off their feet as the building gave a bone-jarring lurch; there was a terrible squelching noise, as though the world around them was being sucked through a plastic straw, and everything went pitch-black.

Matt screamed and clawed blindly at the air. The ground had suddenly disappeared from beneath him, and the goggled redhead was desperate for anchorage. Matt instinctively wrapped his arms around his skull and curled himself into a tight ball. A few seconds later, he felt the ceiling slam down onto him relentlessly, over and over again. He could've sworn he heard and felt a rib crack.

Matt bit into his tongue in order to prevent breaking both sets of teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He could barely breathe. The apartment was obviously in a free fall through what felt like a bottomless pit; there was no way of telling when it would arrive at its inevitable – but surely fatal – landing.

"_Argh_!" a shriek came from the opposite end of the room. "_God – save – us –_!"

That was the last thing Matt heard before he lost consciousness.

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**A/N: Trivia – quicksand is rarely deeper than a few feet. This is obviously not the case in the fictional world xD**

_Special thanks to those who have reviewed the first chapter: Dai Uzimaki, akatsukifan, Kira the Wolf, My Lipstick Tastes Like Jam._

**Reviews would be awesome and are worthy of virtual cupcakes ^_^ **


	3. The Writing on the Wall

**A/N: **I don't think I'll be able to complete this fic by tomorrow as intended, but oh well. Woo, enjoy (:

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a thing.

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**Chapter 3: The Writing on the Wall**

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Matt awoke to the cool sensation of a wet cloth dabbing at his forehead.

The redhead let out a strangled yelp that died instantly in his parched throat. For a moment, he just laid there, shivering and flexing his fingers to make sure that he was, indeed, still alive. After his vision had finished adjusting to the dark – which didn't take very long, he was used to it – his eyes darted up the invasive hand only to find it attached to a ghostly pale limb of a very familiar boy.

"Matt should stay still," Near said softly.

"Ergh!" he gasped out incoherently. The goggled genius had a million other questions burning on the tip of his tongue, such as _how did _you_ get here? _and _where are we?_

"What happened?" Matt finally uttered, noticing the enormous pile of debris that used to be his hideout.

The albino-esque teen gestured vaguely at the redhead's torso. "I pulled you and Mello out of the wreckage. And Matt is bleeding," he added bluntly as though he were merely delivering a traffic report.

Matt propped himself up on his elbows, wincing from the pain shooting through his abdomen and chest. At least the ground, which had the consistency of clay, was soft and forgiving below him. "How bad is it?" He was too afraid to look.

Near declined to answer. "Mello's coming to," he murmured, nodding toward an area behind the redhead.

The older boy almost cricked his neck following Near's gaze. Matt squinted slightly; he could just make out the blond's stirring figure several feet away.

"Matt…?" came Mello's scratchy voice.

Near clambered awkwardly to his feet and receded into the shadows of the cavern, noiseless and wraithlike. However, the underground tunnel wasn't dark enough to conceal the telltale shade of the teen's white pajamas.

Mello's slender form bolted up from his position on the ground, seemingly unharmed. "Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm over here," Matt rasped, fumbling through his pockets. He quickly withdrew a slim plastic container. "Give me a second."

There was a tinny _click _as the redhead flicked his lighter open. A small orange flame leapt to life, throwing his own body into sharp relief. His gut twisted.

Mello let out a string of expletives at the sight of the mangled mess that was Matt's chest.

His vest had been torn cleanly in half; its furry flaps had fallen open to expose a shredded striped top that was soaked crimson. Matt gingerly peeled apart the tattered remains of his shirt to peer underneath the collar. A whimper left his dry lips, followed by a dribble of vomit.

A sickly yellow discharge leaking from his wounds, signaling that a serious infection was already setting in. But that wasn't the worst part. The deep gashes that adorned his torso had become infested with tiny black dots that glimmered like beads in the amber glow pulsing from Matt's gloved fist.

He moaned.

Mello gnawed at the inside of his cheek, visibly shaken. "If only we had some water," the blonde hissed, pacing back and forth. "And gauze." The older man glared down at his leather attire, as though he could blame his clothes for not being rippable.

The redhead's shielded eyes flickered toward the small silhouette that hovered beside them, undetected and unannounced. Mello had been too focused on Matt's injuries to properly examine their surroundings as of yet. If Near were to ever make his presence known, _now _would be the opportune moment.

He was not disappointed.

A pajama blouse came soaring through the air in the duo's direction. Mello caught it instinctively before realizing what it was. He released the shirt in shock, and it fluttered to the ground just within Matt's reach. Matt snatched it up gratefully and began tearing the cotton into long strips with his teeth. Strangely, the material appeared to be damp and salty in some spots, as if had been used to wipe away sweat.

"Who's there?" Mello snarled, making sure not to trip on the redhead's sprawled legs before striding over to the cavern wall where the aid had come from. But the frenzied blond halted in his tracks when the hiding being finally stepped out to reveal himself.

"Hello," Near said evenly.

The older man's jaw fell open for a second, but he recovered quickly. "What are _you_ doing here?" Mello demanded, his eyes glittering dangerously in the dim lighting.

Near stared at him blankly. "Well, this _is _my dream."

"Ha! You wish," Mello sneered, "but you couldn't be more wrong."

"Dream-Mello sounds awfully happy about that."

"How would you like it if _Dream_-Mello shoved his _dream _gun down your _dream_ throat?"

"Was that a threat?"

"Quiet!"

Matt's voice rang with authority, over and over again, until the ensuing echoes faded from their tunneled prison. His two companions fell silent.

"Thank you." The redhead touched his throbbing chest with his free hand and grimaced. He had scraped out the insects before securing the cuts with his makeshift bandages. "You guys, I don't know what's going on either, or where the hell we even are, but there's no point in squab –"

Near politely cleared his throat.

"What?"

"I had a chance to examine the passage while you were both unconscious," Near said quietly. "There appeared to be distinct markings along the walls, but I didn't recognize any of them. Maybe Matt can."

"Why him?" Mello was surprised.

"Besides cigarettes, what else is in his pockets?"

Matt's heart dropped. "My console. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"Show Mello the cartridge."

The goggled gamer complied, fishing out his handheld and sliding the back compartment open. It looked like any other ordinary game cartridge, except for the fact that its label wasn't written in English, or any modern language for that matter.

"What is it called?" Near pressed. "Some of the symbols resemble the ones I saw further down the tunnel."

But it was Mello who answered.

"They're hieroglyphics," the blond said slowly. "_The Pharaoh's Vendetta. _I got him that for Christmas."

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**A/N: I was originally going to call it "The Pharaoh's Revenge" but apparently there's a 1988 PC game with the same name. Heh.**

_Special thanks to the latest reviewers: akatsukifan, Kishimojin, Kira the Wolf, Living in a fantasy_

**Have a great Halloween, everyone! Trick or treat, leave a review if you're sweet (;**


	4. Catacombs

**A/N: **Hope everyone had an awesome Halloween! We ended up with TONS of leftovers. I have a feeling I'll end up with a cavity pretty soon. Let's hope not. Anyway, here's the latest chapter – I guess the story be continuing beyond Halloween for a little while, after all!

**Disclaimer: **Same as always!

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**Chapter 4: Catacombs**

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"Pharaoh," Near repeated, bending down to inspect the set-square emblazoned across the video game cartridge. "That term refers to those who once ruled Egypt."

"More accurately, those who reigned during the New Kingdom," Matt elaborated. "Technically speaking, the title of Pharaoh didn't come into play until the eighteenth dynasty." He stroked the console almost lovingly. Leave it up to Mello to hunt down the hardest game known to mankind. Of course, the genius gamer relished the challenge. _Vendetta _was the only game he had yet managed to beat – and it was just too bad that he would never get another chance to do so.

Not after tomorrow.

Mello stared at the goggled teen. "Impressive, Matt."

The redhead puffed his chest out with pride in response to the blond's words, but then instantly regretted it. A tiny arrow of pain shot through Matt's injured front, bathing him in an unnatural heat.

"I need more water," Matt rasped, gesturing at Near. For a moment, he could've sworn that the white-haired boy fidgeted.

"There is no water," Near calmly pointed out.

Matt was bewildered. "Then what –?"

The younger man blinked owlishly at him. Matt was suddenly struck by how vulnerable Near looked, especially with his skeletal figure and chalky skin exposed. It could've been a trick of the light – his precious orange flame that flickered feebly – but there seemed to be a pinkish tint rimming the SPK leader's eyes. That was when Matt realized that it was neither water nor sweat that had dampened Near's pajama shirt earlier.

"Never mind," Matt mumbled, vaguely disturbed and feeling as though he had trespassed on something sacred. He shoved the game console back into his vest pocket before struggling to his feet.

Mello was at his side in a flash; the leather-clad blond ducked underneath his friend's arm and slung it over his shoulders to support the redhead's weight. Aside from a couple of bruises, Mello seemed to be in good condition - thanks to the tough durability of his clothes. The redhead felt a twinge of envy. Damn wool. Perhaps he should have also invested his money into leather, or even better, Kevlar.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I want to see the rest of the hieroglyphics," Matt said firmly. "I'm assuming that our current location is somewhere in Egypt, but I'd like to make sure."

Mello nodded and raised an expectant brow at his longtime rival. _Lead the way_.

Soon, they were slowly making their way deeper into the dark cavern and away from the apartment ruins, their tentative path lit by Matt's small but trusty cigarette lighter. As Near guided them through the gradually-sloping passage, the redhead felt a prickle of fear crawl up his spine.

No, not fear.

Déjà vu.

The trio eventually stopped in front of a large expanse of wall about ten feet high. Unlike the rest of the tunnel, this section of stone had been smoothed down to bear a vast assortment of exotic symbols and colors. Near's mouth twitched.

"I was studying some papers that Gevanni had sent me," the SPK leader explained, "and I must have fallen asleep at some point. When I woke up, this is what I found in their place."

"What papers?" Matt inquired. Mello leaned in to listen.

"Unimportant." Near's eyes glinted territorially, but the blond didn't seem to notice. Mello had instead turned his attention to the wall of foreign characters and pictures. Matt gave the white-haired teen a lingering look before doing the same. He angled his lighter toward the wall and immediately drew back in surprise.

The hieroglyphics that adorned the wall were not stained with dust or weathered with old age as he had imagined them to be. Rather, the painstakingly engraved and painted designs still had that freshly-glazed quality to them. Matt examined the polished surface with growing suspicion.

"What does it say?" Mello murmured. Unlike Matt, he had only limited knowledge of the ancient text. Matt had always been somewhat of a mythology geek; this interest had been fueled by his primary passion for fantasy-centric video games and their vivid back stories.

"_Gates of the Kings_," Matt translated, his burning gaze raking over the familiar hieroglyphs. "Otherwise known as the Valley of the Kings..." He hesitated before adding, "...in our time."

"I knew it," Near breathed, fingering the not-so-old sketchings in wonderment.

Mello stiffened. "What?" he demanded.

Matt took a deep breath. "We're not in Kansas anymore."

"Well, I know _that _much..."

"Neither are we in the twenty-first century."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"I know it sounds insane," Matt finally mumbled, "but I think you were right, Mello."

"What about?"

His shielded gaze dropped to his friend's chest, where the silver crucifix lay peacefully against the quilted leather. Matt opened his mouth to formulate a humble, carefully worded answer – _Miracles are real, Mels – _when he spotted a slight shift in the shadows.

Mello had noticed it as well. "Run," the blond roared, grabbing Matt's arm and nearly wrenching it out of its socket. But they weren't quick enough.

_"Seize them!" _came a loud cry.

There was a shout as a horde of men swathed in simple black robes rushed forward, sending the two older geniuses sprawling to the dirt floor. Near had already lowered himself to the ground, crouching and bowing his head in what Matt secretly knew to be mock surrender. None of L's successors would submit so willingly.

One of the guards – at least, that's what Matt assumed they were – dug his fingers into Near's snowy curls, yanking the boy to his feet. Matt and Mello were roughly forced to join their younger companion's side.

"State your names! What reason do you have for disturbing the Pharaoh's tomb?"

Matt almost gasped out loud when he realized that he could understand every sound that was spilling out of the chieftain's mouth. It was as if a switch in his brain had been thrown, filtering the obviously Middle Egyptian dialect into comprehensible English words. Reading was one thing, but actually understanding?

"They must be grave robbers," his second-in-command interjected.

The chieftain brandished his sword. "Take them to the Palace before His Royal Highness!"

And with that, the trio was marched away, presumably to face torture... or more likely, death itself.

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**A/N: Mwahaha, torture and death *gasp***

_Special thanks to the latest reviewers: akatsukifan (haha yes, the entire trio is in this ^_^ and I'm glad you're liking it!), Kira the Wolf, Dai Uzimaki, MasaJeevas, Living in a fantasy_

**Reviews will keep the mummies away! Not "literally", of course...well, maybe ;)**


	5. The Boy King

**A/N:** Happy belated Bonfire Night (though I don't actually celebrate it myself)!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but this slice of insanity e_o

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**Chapter ****5****: ****The Boy King **

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With a muffled grunt, Matt fell to his knees.

Upon his capture, the accused tomb raider had been stripped of all his clothing, including the ribbed boots on his feet to the plastic goggles that eternally adorned his head. His sore wrists had been bound behind his back, strapped together by a knotted leather cord. A blindfold was also currently drawn across his eyes – but even in his sightless condition, Matt could sense a familiar, simmering presence next to him on the stone floor. It was, without a doubt, Mello.

The redhead shivered, although he was far from cold. In fact, sweat was pouring from practically every pore of his naked flesh. The three men and their Egyptian captors had been walking for at least two hours aboveground, beneath the scorching sun; Matt had never endured such physical suffering in his entire life. His makeshift bandages, which had been fortunately left intact after being inspected, were now drenched in a mixture of perspiration and congealing blood.

Like Mello and Near, Matt had wisely stayed silent during the lengthy trek through the desert. He had ignored the burning pads of his bare feet, instead focusing on the thrumming of his heart against his ribcage. Admittedly, Matt was out of shape. If they were to get out of this alive, the redhead silently vowed, he would spend more time working out instead of gaming the nights away like a chronic couch potato.

"Your Highness, these three are the ones behind the disturbance over in the Kings' Valley!" a deep voice boomed above his head.

Matt gasped when the darkness was suddenly ripped from him.

Countless tapestries plummeted from the high ceilings like multicolored waterfalls, veiling beneath them the smooth yellow bricks of the palace walls. Pole torches burned in every corner of the great chamber, dousing the area in a healthy orange light. There was only one door in the room – a giant archway – and no windows.

Near kept his eyes trained on the tiled floor, blank and void of any expression despite the sprawl of gaudy animal paintings that decorated the glossy squares. Mello, on the other hand, seemed rather impressed by their surroundings…

…more specifically, by the commanding figure that sat hunched in a splendid golden throne at the front of the room.

The king appeared to be a boy of their own age, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. His skull was completely hidden underneath an elongated helmet – no, a crown – striped with gold and indigo. A tiny bejeweled serpent jutted out above the boy's smooth, tanned forehead. His eyes, which were ringed with long lashes and dark makeup, scanned the scene before him. The reigning teenager calmly lifted his chin.

Matt felt a tremor of awe ripple through his body. _No… _

_No fucking way…_

"They were found breaching the secret tombs," the leader of the royal guards continued, shooting daggers at the trio. "They must be executed at once."

"You have done well, General Horembeb. Please leave us now. I would like to talk to them alone."

The boy's voice was soft and velvety, as though he was speaking to a lover or a child. An alarmed scowl flashed across the older man's features.

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Pharaoh. These men are extremely dangerous. Look at their outlandish appearances! Abominations! Punishments for rebelling against the gods!" Horembeb yanked handfuls of Matt's red hair and Mello's flaxen locks; another man brutally pinched Near's pale skin.

The young king looked amused. "What other proof do you have?"

In response, a silver-plated pistol and a black game console skittered onto the tiled floor. Matt flinched at the loud landing impact of his favorite electronic device. Near's socks and pajama pants quickly followed, along with Mello's leather ensemble and Matt's own bizarre attire. His eyes widened; his goggles were missing, as well as Mello's rosary.

General Horembeb nudged the pile of supposedly foreign objects with a sandaled foot. "The high priests have been unable to identify their possessions. However, one of them suggested that they are gypsies. Another is convinced they are spies from a distant land, or… rogue magicians."

Matt tensed as a buzzing murmur echoed through the chamber.

"Thieves!"

The redhead recoiled from the unexpected shout that exploded from Mello's mouth. Near also looked appalled.

In the blink of an eye, ten sloping blades were at the blond's throat.

"Where is my necklace?" Mello snarled, despite being seconds away from a bloody decapitation.

"If you are referring to the rubies you stole from the tombs, we have confiscated them," a guard said maddeningly. His partners nodded in agreement, and one of them lashed out with a leg to kick Mello in the gut. The blond doubled over in silent pain, and Matt instinctively reached out to comfort him.

"That is enough! Withdraw your weapons!"

The boy-king cast his guards an expectant look. They snapped to attention and swiftly sheathed their swords. "Your Highness…"

"Out, now. That is an order. And please fetch my wife and Grand Vizier Ay. That is also an order."

Muttering incomprehensibly, General Horembeb and his men swept out of the chamber, their black robes swishing behind them as they made their exit.

"Get up."

The trio of cultivated geniuses obeyed. Matt was impressed by his younger companion's serenity; he himself was a shuddering mess. Mello was also trembling, but it was obviously out of fury rather than fear.

"You must be cold. Put these on," the youthful pharaoh said quietly. Three cloaks sailed through the air and landed gently at their swollen, dirty feet. "I apologize for your less-than-warm welcome into Thebes."

Matt's breathing grew shallower with each lungful of air. He snatched the clean cloth from the ground, grateful to shield his extremities from sight.

_Thebes…_

_This man…_

"Why are you giving us such special treatment?" Near asked bluntly, unabashedly ignoring the robe lying on the floor.

The king looked apologetic. "Because I am the one responsible for your ill-timed fate," he declared, climbing off the throne and drawing himself to his full height, which appeared to be an inch more than Matt's own. Almost immediately, the boy grabbed his back and became hunched over once again.

"What are you talking about? Who are you?" Mello growled.

The young man looked surprised by the question.

"Why, I'm Tutankhamun, of course."

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**A/N: A bit of trivia – King Tut had a "mild case" of scoliosis. Like L, perhaps?**

_Special thanks to the latest reviewers: Kira the Wolf, akatsukifan (haha, they're safe for now!), Kishimojin, Sailormercury117 (heh, thanks! It's based on a lot of history so it's understandable it might get a little confusing)_

**Seeing as mummies are actually wanted, reviews will keep the…scarabs?... away! xD**


	6. Ambrosia

**A/N:** For those who aren't familiar with Egyptian mythology and/or Tut's background, specifically the infamous "curse" surrounding his tomb and the mystery of his untimely death, prepare yourselves for a little dash of history!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, just this funkiness!

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**Chapter ****6: ****Ambrosia**

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Upon the illuminating revelation of the youthful pharaoh's true identity, fireworks exploded from behind the throne, drums crashed and a sweet orchestra of tambourines, pipes and harps swelled through the palace chamber like a spectacular motion picture soundtrack.

Of course, Matt had always had an incredibly vivid imagination.

In reality, there were no dazzling bursts of color, no such symphonic music, no thundering applause to accompany the young man's pronouncement. In fact, it was so quiet, one could've heard a scorpion chirrup at the opposite end of the Theban palace.

"Tutankhamun?" Mello exclaimed, his mouth flapping open in astonishment. He quickly slammed it shut, though. "_You're_ King Tut?"

The brash blond received an affirmative, quirked brow in response.

"Tut," Matt echoed reverently. The nickname itself, the three most renowned letters to ever grace history's proverbial pages, was already a wonder to behold.

How many shovels had been sacrificed in the world's most prolonged and agonizing dig? How many pens had recorded the days leading up to the earth-shattering discovery of the hidden pharaoh? How many archaeologists had wailed over their fruitless excavations before Howard Carter remained and prevailed?

How many people had _mysteriously _died not too long after uncovering – _disturbing_ – the ancient mummy's resting place?

Well, just one. But it was one too many for the redhead not to be quivering in his new robe.

Hundreds of thousands of journals, books, films, video games and other profit-seeking merchandise had been spawned from the very legend of Tutankhamun's curse. The fanatical gamer was unable to tear his eyes away from the namesake of Mello's Christmas gift, _The Pharaoh's Vendetta_.

King Tut was exactly as Matt, along with professional Egyptologists of course, had pictured him: bronzed, fit, graceful and...

...physically deformed.

The royal's slightly curved spine wasn't the only thing that he had inherited from the questionable union of his deceased biological parents. The then-common incest had also resulted in an awkwardly rotated foot and a twisted upper lip, which in turn accentuated the dark-skinned youth's white but oversized teeth.

Near tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing the famed boy king with shrewd eyes. "What do you want from us?" the youngest teenager said coolly.

"That is rather complicated," the Egyptian man sighed, carefully settling back down into his gilded seat. "But then again, you three do possess the sharpest minds that the scribes could find. To put it simply, I... I am in dire need of your assistance. I am hoping you will oblige me."

Matt finally found his voice. "Excuse me? I don't know how to say this, but... we're not exactly from around here."

"I know." Tut's kohl-rimmed eyes bore right through Matt, as though he were still standing in the nude. "My sorcerers and sorceresses have summoned you from the future at my request."

"W-Why?" Matt spluttered.

The young king raised his face to the ceiling, and the three genius misfits followed his gaze accordingly. The inner surface of the palace roof was glazed with paintings that depicted Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the afterlife, and Thoth, the scribe entrusted with the judgment of the dead, lingering by a massive scale that held a heart at one end and a single feather at the other. A crocodile, lion and hippopotamus hybrid lay beneath the scale, its yellow eyes wild with hunger and expectancy.

"Many of my men have already perished in their attempts to breach the underworld on my behalf. Are you familiar with our concepts of immortality?"

"Not really," was Matt's humble reply.

"I see. Well. That," Tut said softly, still gazing at the mural above their heads, "is the _scale of Ma'at_."

_Ma'at? Seriously? _Matt let loose a nervous giggle. Three sets of eyes flashed briefly to his furiously blushing face. "I'm sorry," he apologized hastily. "It's just that, well…"

"How childish," Near mumbled under his breath.

"So tell us more about this scale," Mello cut in, glaring at Near in Matt's defense.

The pharaoh looked bemused. "Alright then… as you can probably imagine, the afterlife is filled with obstacles that one must overcome in order to earn eternal life, if the gods wish it. When a man dies, he is sent to the Hall of Two Truths, where his heart is weighed against the feather of truth." Tut took a deep breath. "If it is deemed to be impure, the heart will outweigh Ma'at's feather. So far, my priests were reportedly unable to pass this test, and their hearts were devoured by the demon Ammut, Devourer of the Dead, Eater of Hearts…"

"Reportedly?" Mello said sharply, his eyebrows disappearing underneath his bangs. "Who…?"

"My Grand Vizier and grandfather, Ay, was the only survivor. He was able to complete the reversal spells in time to escape the temporary limbo. You see, none of my men were actually dead to begin with. Their souls had simply been transferred to the afterlife using the Book of the Dead."

Matt's mind was whirling. He could barely comprehend what Tut was telling them. Was he implying that he wanted the three of _them _to take on this quest?

Indeed, he knew what was coming. He knew what the pharaoh had in mind.

"What the hell were they all risking their lives for?" Mello demanded.

Tut's face became flushed with embarrassment. But it was Matt who answered.

"Honey."

"Ambrosia, the nectar of the gods!" the young pharaoh declared, flustered by Near's suddenly accusatory glare. "You do not understand!" Tut blurted loudly, dropping his calm demeanor. "Do you know what it is like to be aware of your impending doom? I am prophesized to die _this _year! Any day now, I will fall victim to Death when I am least prepared for it… and I have bore no son, no heirs, my legacy will be ripped to shreds! If you succeed with the mission, I will be more than happy to share it with you!"

"You're mad. No deal," Mello snapped, obviously irked by the fact that the pharaoh was clearly intending to use them like mere guinea pigs, like _tools_. "We'd like to go home now."

Tut's bronzed shoulders slumped. "I had thought that _you_ two, of all people, would especially appreciate a shot at immortality. Another chance to live life to its fullest before it is cruelly snatched away."

As he said this, he was staring straight at L's second and third-ranked successors.

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**A/N: Ouch. Yeah, he went THERE. **

**Trivia: Bees were worshipped as a source of eternal life, so many Egyptian pharaohs were buried with jars of honey.**

_Special thanks to the latest reviewers: akatsukifan (your comment for SAUC was very touching, thanks so much!), Kishimojin, Kira the Wolf, Living in a Fantasy, Sailormercury117 (and yours was utterly hilarious!)~_

**Reviews would be awesome! They're to me like… what honey is to bees ;)**


	7. The Doomed and the Damned

**A/N: **Hurrrrr's a new chapter! I was planning to post this last night but I, er, accidentally fell asleep. Rainstorms do that to me sometimes D:

**Disclaimer: **The DN characters and historical figures are not mine.

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**Chapter 7: The Doomed and the Damned**

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Matt felt the blood rush from his face. Obviously the time-meddling boy of a pharaoh knew something that _they_ didn't.

"What are you implying?" Mello said slowly.

Tut's tone softened. "Only the worst," he uttered.

Matt felt dangerously close to screaming – not unlike the other day when Mello had announced his intention to provoke Kira one last time, not unlike when Matt had wordlessly agreed to Mello's scheme, unconvinced by his friend's half-assed promises that Matt's chances of survival were very, very high. But Matt had kept his cowardly rage to himself, because after all, what could be simpler than a drive-by shooting?

The answer was glaringly obvious in the way the Egyptian ruler was now looking at him, sad and pitying. _Him_. Not Mello, not Near.

Matt.

Matt, the dreamer. Matt, the ever-consistent partner.

Matt, the destined martyr.

The flustered redhead then committed the fatal mistake of peeking at Near, whose calculating eyes were already trained suspiciously on his lesser rivals. It was evident that the younger prodigy was irritated about being purposely left out of the loop. Matt felt a stab of annoyance. It was entirely Mello's fault –his insatiable ambition to belittle and best the SPK leader, their suicide mission, and above all, Matt's involvement.

Matt made a split second decision. He was _not _going to waste this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Deal!"

Tut's face broke out into a relieved grin. "I knew I could count on you," he murmured.

Mello swung around to glare at his underling. "Matt, are you out of your mind? Didn't you hear a word this guy said? He's already sacrificed God-knows-how-many lives to save his own hide," the furious blond spat out. "We are no one's pawns, not even a king's!"

"There is no greater honor than to lay your life down for a pharaoh," Tut said pointedly. "My priests were willing participants."

"That's because they're a bunch of delusional whack-jobs!"

"But Mello, just think about it. Immortality? It's an offer we can't refuse," Matt insisted.

Near chose that moment to pipe up. "If we fail to succeed," the white-haired genius said warily, addressing Tut, "what will happen to us?"

"Your bodies will be safely returned to the future."

Near didn't miss a beat. "And our souls?" he pressed.

"They'll be eaten up by that crocodile!" Mello squawked, gesturing violently at the depictions of the heart-weighing judgment painted above their heads.

Tut hesitated. "...That's right."

"In that case, I have nothing to be afraid of," Near mused. "Eternal life would be quite beneficial, so I'm with Matt. Will Mello be joining us?"

Underlying Near's innocent question was his trademark condescending lilt; neither of the older Wammy alumni could fail to detect the apparent challenge being directed at Mello. Matt was certain that Mello would rise and take the bait as usual, and was already silently congratulating Near for his simple but effective maneuver.

"I just _can't_ do it."

The significance of Mello's diction went unheeded. The ex-Mafioso bowed his head, avoiding his company's surprised and disheartened gazes.

"Very well, then," Tut sighed. "I shall ask my grandfather to send you back to your time, as you clearly desire."

"I am afraid that will be impossible."

Matt's heart stuttered at the arrival of the new voice. Four heads twisted toward the entrance of the palace chamber, where an old man decked in a magnificent set of armored robes had suddenly materialized. His plated chest was puffed out importantly, and though he had to be at least seventy years old, the newcomer looked astonishingly fit for battle.

Near finally came to his senses and snatched the cloak off the ground, shielding his nakedness from the new and prying eyes.

Mello was speechless.

_He must be the Grand Vizier, _Matt thought. _Ay, Tut's grandfather. _And, as a handful of Egyptologists, historians and forensic scientists speculated...

...the prime suspect behind Tut's questionably early death and alleged murder.

Ay was not alone. "There you are, Ankhe!" Tut bounded off the throne, running awkwardly but eagerly to embrace his half-sister and wife, who had appeared in the doorway alongside the second-highest ranking man in all of Egypt.

"Ankhe" was a beautiful woman. She shared her half-brother's dark, hooded eyes and bronzed skin, and her supple limbs were embellished with enough jewelry to buy a hundred vintage cars. Awed, Matt switched his attention to the beaded diadem draped around the young queen's skull, and his brows rose another fraction of an inch. A tiny cobra protruded from the mass of lapis lazuli gems covering her head, one that matched the one on the pharaoh's own crown.

"My king," she greeted her husband. Her gold-drenched arms were thrust outward to present to him a thick volume bound in brown leather. Tut smiled, kissing her hands before taking the book.

"As I was saying," the vizier – Ay – said loudly when he saw that Mello had opened his mouth again to protest, "there must always be multiples of three people to perform the ritual, one for each of the three parts of the soul – _Ba, Ka _and the _Akh._ This is the only way our spirits can be securely transferred into the afterlife without being split up into each of these three separate parts. Do you understand?"

Mello's face had gone completely white. "Then get another one of your priests to do it." His voice was barely above a whisper now.

That was when Matt realized that Mello wasn't fighting against being _used_.

Mello was scared of his inevitable damnation.

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**A/N: Trivia (I like trivia!) - The Egyptian goddess Ma'at also goes by the names Maat, Māt, and Mayet. Woohoo, "Matt" galore!**

_Special thanks to the latest reviewers: Kira the Wolf, Sailormercury117 (you have my best wishes!), akatsukifan, Sun Xiao, Writer Axis, TheCatchingLightAlchemist _~

**Reviews would be... Magically Delicious! (;**


	8. Paradox

**A/N: **Just watched The Deathly Hallows – my eyes are still recovering from its greatness. Wow, just… gah! Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to those in the States! :)

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed.

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**Chapter 8: Paradox**

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The vizier frowned at Mello as though he had cotton stuffed between the ears instead of an alleged genius brain.

"Again, impossible. Do you not understand the magnitude of time traveling and magic?" Ay scoffed.

Mello returned the vizier's contemptuous glare. "Yes, I do, actually."

"Then you must realize that our priests must never be allowed to come into contact with you three. Their powers to foresee the future are very limited; they can only predict outcomes – the _what – _rather than the events themselves – _how, when _and _why_," Ay explained swiftly, inclining his head toward King Tut to emphasize his point.

The doomed pharaoh flinched.

Ay's face darkened. "The gods would be most displeased if the high priests were found meddling with more than what they were blessed with: the ability to foretell deaths. It was very lucky that the ignorant guards came across the three of you before anyone else could."

Near cocked his snowy-white head. "Meddling?"

"When my scribes discovered your existences," Tut elaborated, "the priests became very excited. We had to remind them that they were forbidden to approach you with the intents to glean knowledge of and from the future. Such data can create ripples in the time line, or worse, a time paradox."

"Hypocrite," Near said sleekly.

Matt gaped at him. Near had never been one for decorum, but to directly _challenge_ a famed leader…?

Tut's bronzed skin flushed with anger. "I will use the nectar wisely," he defended himself. "I only wish to live long enough for my wife to bear a son, and to watch them grow old."

"How lovely," Mello remarked, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

Near smiled slightly. Of course Mello wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to match or outdo his rival's audacity.

Matt's eyes, on the other hand, were trained on the young woman standing by Tut's elbow. Ankhe appeared to be physically affected by Mello's words; her hand had drifted to her flat belly, gemmed bracelets barely jingling, and her face had become slack with a dreamy, faraway look.

With a start, Matt recalled reading about Tut's puny and hastily prepared tomb, and the possessions that the supposedly-murdered pharaoh had been buried with. Along with childhood toys, an arsenal of bows and arrows, armor, pottery and other valuable treasures, the archaeologists had found two embalmed fetuses.

They had both been females, stillborns, robbed of any chances of life, much less their deserved royal one. Egyptologists had always proclaimed that Tutankhamun's family had been the most unfortunate in history.

Matt's vote went to another.

Gods and goddesses in any parallel universe or messed up timeline forbid if the two Yagami women should ever find out they were blood relatives with modern-day Hitler.

Mello barreled on. "Besides, I thought ambrosia granted eternal life?"

"It does," Tut said dryly, "only as everlasting youth. It does not, however, protect one against physical damage. Once a body dies, the soul departs. Which," he hastily added, seeing their alarmed expressions, "will not how you three will make entrance into the Hall of Two Truths."

Matt finally spoke. "Alright then, what are we waiting for? Mello, you in?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like I have a choice," the blond ground out, much to the Egyptian pharaoh's visible relief.

_It'll be okay, I swear… _

But Matt couldn't bring himself to say those words. He knew it would only be a hollow promise, like the one that came out of Mello's mouth just a few days ago.

"Let's get started as soon as possible," Near agreed. "I have, ah, important matters to return to."

Matt had to force down a knowing, telltale blush; the SPK chieftain was obviously still unaware of Halle's connection to the two rogue masterminds. Mello shot the redhead a warning look.

"So?" Near prompted Tut, who had cracked open the large book that the queen had brought him.

The young pharaoh glanced up fleetingly. "This is the Book of the Dead. With the right incantations, your souls will be transferred into the afterlife. Are you ready?"

"Wait! What are we supposed to do?"

"Just relax."

Before Matt could even articulate a response, he and his two genius companions were blasted clean off their feet, landing unceremoniously in the titan-sized ornamental fountain on the far side of the room.

"Ugh!" Mello spluttered, emerging from the deep basin and shaking out his wet bangs.

Near was still splashing away; his feet were clearly unable to even graze the bottom. Matt quickly pulled him over to the edge of the miniature pool for anchorage. With a grateful nod, the younger teenager calmly plucked a goldfish out of his soaked curls and tossed it back into the water.

"What the hell?" Matt bellowed. "Next time, give us a heads-up!"

"We did," Tut called from across the palace chamber.

And as if to both contradict and prove the king's words, flames erupted all around them, effectively imprisoning the three boys in the fountain.

"Fuck this!" Mello yelled, paddling frantically to the rim of the fountain in a blatant attempt to escape, but immediately recoiled. The fire had already become a brilliant, impenetrable wall, separating the spell-casting Egyptians from their view.

"Calm down!"

The heat of the soaring flames slammed into their faces until they could take it no longer. Matt was the first to plunge back into the watery depths of their elemental confinement, his lungs full of precious oxygen. His fingers briefly brushed against the bed of decorative pebbles.

_What now? _Matt's mind was racing.

Nothing seemed to be happening. Seconds stretched out into minutes, and Matt's chest felt ready to burst. There was no point in surfacing for breath unless he wanted to die from smoke inhalation, ironically enough.

The redhead choked back a sob; a smattering of bubbles issued from a nostril. To be purposely taken to the brink of death with only "Just relax" to go on was _not_ the greatest idea.

Flanked by two murky shadows that Matt knew to be his friends, he swam and waited for the afterlife to claim them all.

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**A/N: While the classical 'air, fire, water and earth' concept is credited to ancient Greek philosophers and scientists, its beginnings are rooted in earlier civilizations' (including Egyptian) practices of alchemy and witchcraft.**

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Dai Uzimaki, Kira the Wolf, Kishimojin, TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Eternally1Yours, akatsukifan (heh heh, it was meant to add to the suspense xD), Sailormercury117 (yay thank you :D), SpinnerBeech~_

**Reviews are much appreciated. They bring the fire, quite literally (:**


	9. The Death God

**A/N: **Happy December, everyone! ^_^

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed, don't own the DN cast.

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**Chapter 9: The Death God**

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Time had stopped.

It was as though an internal clock had been abruptly switched off; Matt lost all sensation in his vital organs and bones. The muted sounds of his underwater environment did nothing to ease his sudden hollow discomfort.

The goldfish that Near had pulled out of his hair earlier now hovered in front of Matt's nose, floating unanchored, yet it was as immobile as a clump of seaweed. One of its gelatinous eyes stared back at him, empty and unseeing.

Was it dead? Matt didn't think so. He had once owned a betta, and when he had overfed it by accident, it had turned on its belly before sinking to the base of the bowl. According to several websites, fish that knew they were going to die usually went to the bottom to hide. It had been Mello who finally pointed out that it was already dead, two days after the unfortunate incident.

No, the goldfish wasn't dead.

_He _was.

The drenched redhead burst through the surface of the fountain, opening his mouth to take a deep breath, only to realize that he _couldn't_. He couldn't breathe, couldn't taste the air sliding over his skin, nor could he feel the previously cold water that soaked his entire being to the core.

He couldn't feel anything at all.

The wall of flames continued to dance all around him, flirting and mocking. The white-orange light flickered before his unshielded eyes, burning as brightly as it did moments ago – except now, there was no heat emanating from the fire, no acrid smoke snaking up his nostrils. Nothing.

Heart thundering like a hundred armies, Matt paddled toward the edge of the basin, hesitating for a nanosecond before plunging his whole arm through the licking tongues.

"Matt, no!"

He withdrew his limb, which was, as he had suspected it would be, unaffected and unscathed. He whirled around to face Mello, who had also emerged from the water.

Mello impatiently pushed his sodden locks out of his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Conducting an experiment…" Matt's words died in his throat.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your f-face!" Matt spluttered.

"What?"

Matt didn't have a chance to respond. A colorless hand belonging to their fellow Wammy descendant poked through the water a few feet away, signaling for assistance.

Mello huffed loudly and swam over to help his self-proclaimed archenemy. Five undignified splashes and ten seconds later, the petite teenager was stationed between his older companions, his arms hooked around each of their necks.

"Thank you."

"You can't swim?" Mello's voice was incredulous.

"I never had a reason to learn," Near answered, unperturbed. "Now, let's get out of here, shall we? I'm assuming that since I've lost three of my five senses, we can make it through the flames alive."

Matt nodded. "There's no need to assume. I just tested it."

When the trio clambered over the basin's rim, a loud hissing noise filled the air; steam was gushing out of their pores and clothing in endless foggy streams. Matt landed on the floor with a wet but unsatisfying splat. It had only been a few minutes since his temporary death, but he was already missing the reassuring feel of having something solid under his feet.

As soon as they had completely cleared the fire, it yellowed out, shrunk and then vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but three confused geniuses, a massive golden fountain and a silent corridor lit by swarms of motionless yet airborne fireflies.

"Strange, isn't it?" Matt muttered, pinching his thigh. Again, nothing. It was as though he had been consciously anesthetized. Then, on impulse, he peeked beneath his clinging robes and makeshift bandages.

_Zilch. Poof. Nada._

"Strange," Matt repeated.

As he had predicted, all traces of his recent injuries had been magically removed. Gone were the bloody grooves, gone was the oozing pus. Gone, just like...

Mello let out a bark of laughter. "This whole thing has been _strange_, mate."

"Well, it's gotten even stranger." Matt grabbed his partner's hand, forcing the blond to touch his left cheek. "Do you feel that?"

"Not really," Mello responded bewilderedly, continuing to prod at his newly smooth face.

Near's eyes widened as he finally spotted what Matt had noticed from the very start. "Mello, your scars are gone."

"And you," Matt cut in, pointing wildly at Near. "What's wrong with your hair?"

At first, he had thought it was just a trick of the light, but now that the flames had disappeared, Matt could see very clearly that the albino-esque youth was albino no longer. His normally white curls were now a crisp platinum blond, a shade that rivaled Halle Lidner's own.

Near inspected the pale flaxen locks with an undisguised air of curiosity. "It's been years… impossible, but unless my eyes deceive me…"

"Years since what?"

The young prodigy fixed Matt with an uncharacteristically heavy gaze. "Since I last saw my family alive."

That shut Matt up.

As a tightly-knit group, they ventured down the dark hall, careful not to walk ahead or fall behind of anyone. Hieroglyphs crawled past them on the walls, indiscernible and therefore ignored in the shadows. Soon, they came to a stop in front of a looming statue, its jackal head black, sharp and menacing. Garnet orbs the size of tennis balls winked out at them.

"Anubis," Matt whispered before either of his friends could ask.

_Correct, Mail Jeevas._

The three men screamed when the sculpture instantly exploded into a thousand painted fragments and gem-encrusted shards, revealing the ebony flesh of the underworld god hidden within.

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**A/N: I've always thought Near's white hair was a result from a major shock he received during his childhood, since his eyes don't really match the 'lack of pigmentation' and 'vision defects' standards of albinism. Just my theory, though :P**

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Eternally1Yours, Kira the Wolf, akatsukifan (I can't thank you enough :D), Kishimojin, TheCatchingLightAlchemist, coloredsparks~_

**Candy canes and hot chocolate for you all! **


	10. Cheaters

**A/N:** This chapter is essentially the turning point of the story. Beware!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Death Note, I'd be one happy clam (:

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**Chapter ****10****: ****Cheaters**

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_I am Anubis, Keeper of Divine Justice! _

The half-human, half-jackal creature pounced out of the crumbling sarcophagus, pinning the trio to the corridor wall with one sweep of his gilded three-pronged flail. His golden eyebrows were drawn together in a dangerous scowl.

_How dare you __deceive__ the Duat?_

Matt nearly pissed himself at the sound of the death deity's all-consuming telepathic voice. When Anubis bared his canine teeth, it was all Matt could do to keep from melting into a frightened, freckled puddle.

_Mail Jeevas. Mihael Keehl. Nate River. _Each word was punctuated with a thundering, open-mouthed snarl. _You are trespassing into the Hall of Two Truths. Explain yourselves!_

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Matt sniggered. _Nate River? _What a dull and commonplace name.

"The _Duat_?" Mello finally managed to say, shooting Near a questioning glance.

"What?" his now-blond rival intoned. "Don't look at me. I don't know everything, believe it or not."

Mello chose to ignore the slight jibe. "Matt?"

Matt forced himself to concentrate, which was difficult to do when a god was practically breathing down their necks and poking a pointy staff into their bellies. With an unpleasant jolt, he recalled the most difficult portion of _The Pharaoh's Vendetta_.

The hardened gamer coughed embarrassedly. "Uh..."

The _Duat _was the demon-guarded, star-lit underworld realm that stretched between the land of the living and the land of the dead. Faced with riddling sphinxes and bloodthirsty spirits, the player of the game would have to successfully endure a series of rites of passage in order to reach Anubis and the final judgment, the _Weighing of the Heart._

In the future-present, Matt was stuck on the last boss, a particularly cunning and sly thalocian. The shapeshifting fox demoness was always able to drain all of Matt's luck and dexterity stats before he could maneuver his character close enough to clip her wings.

It was _extremely_ frustrating.

No cheat codes existed for that level yet. The programmers had ensured that the _Duat _sequence would do justice to its mythological, and apparently historical, counterpart. But here, in reality, someone had obviously found a loophole and skipped over the entire thing.

Either that, or...

_Those who take shortcuts go nowhere in life, _Anubis taunted, spinning the godly flail in his humanoid hand like a baton. The tips grazed their throats. _Or should I say, the ____after__life? _

"Hey, watch it!" Mello barked, jerking away from the weapon.

The jackal-headed guardian suddenly lashed out with his other hand, which was holding a small, cross-shaped object. Matt recognized it immediately as an _ankh, _the symbol of life and balance. He watched with morbid curiosity as their captor brandished the metal key before Mello's body in a wand-like fashion.

To Matt's astonishment, Mello's former scars shimmered into view, rippling across his left cheek and down his neck and shoulder. The pink, fleshy tissue disappeared instantly when the _ankh _was removed from Mello's vicinity.

With another flick of the death god's wrist, Matt's chest was split open and resealed in the blink of an eye.

"What the –?"

Then it was Near's turn to be scrutinized; the teenager went stock-still. Near's mop of curls blanched and darkened like a reversed before-and-after teeth whitening commercial. Anubis snorted.

_I can see that you have __all __been mortally untouched, a sure sign that you have abused the Book of the Dead,_ the beastly hybrid growled. His black nostrils flared. _Who needs bravery when you can cheat?_

Matt blinked in confusion. "We don't know what you're talking about," the redhead protested, his Adam's apple jumping up and down very rapidly.

"No clue," Mello added helpfully.

_Do__ not__ test my patience.__ Your sins and perils have purposely been removed from your essence. You are not the first to attempt to breach the Hall of Two Truths without completing the journey of the Duat.__ I should fee__d__ your__ blasphemous__ souls to Ammut right now_, Anubis mused, staring down at the three geniuses.

"Not the first?"

Near's voice now held an icy edge that neither one of his peers had heard before. Something flickered in his eyes. Fury? Horror?

Then it clicked.

_Betrayal._

"Someone set us up," Near said quietly. "Someone who didn't want us to succeed."

Matt's jaw grew slack. There was only one person who had the motive and opportunity to hinder Tut's plans to live long enough to bear an heir for the throne. It was the same man that would notoriously marry Tutankhamun's wife, Ankhesenamun, a childless widow, after her half-brother's untimely death. It was the same man that would reign as Pharaoh of Egypt for four years, his non-royal birth overridden by his marital status and unquestioned leadership.

The three men exchanged significant looks. This was like some massive, terrible parody of the future-past cold war that had set everything in motion post-Wammy's House.

"The Grand Vizier," Mello said slowly, "he sabotaged the spells on purpose, didn't he?"

"Aye," Near said dryly. "Ay must be behind all the other priests' failures as well."

Mello's eyes became venomous slits. "That son of a bitch."

_Silence! I am growing weary of your babble. _

Anubis withdrew his flail from the men's torsos; they each slumped in relief. But it was too early to start celebrating. The jackal-headed death god raised the _ankh _key once more.

Matt's hands flew upwards to protect his face as a piercing white light blinded him_._

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**A/N: ****So there we have it. Politically speaking, Tut represents L, Ankhe = Japanese Taskforce, Ay = Kira, Anubis = the Shinigami, Ammut (the heart-eating demon) = notebook. Ta-da! ^_^ **

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers__: __TheCatchingLightAlchemist, __TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, akatsukifan (you're very welcome, thanks a bunch, again! I'm happy you're likin' it :D), Kishimojin, Kira the Wolf (the promised thalocian makes an appearance!), OhMyGeePinkSucksAss~_

***Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles* :P**


	11. The Hall of Two Truths

**A/N:** A bit of shameless advertising – I've written Matsuda and Mello a crack fic for their birthdays. Feel free to check it out if you haven't already :D

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything :(

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**Chapter 11: The ****Hall of Two Truths**

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It took Matt a full minute to recover from his visual disorientation. When the black dancing spots disappeared from his vision, he lowered his arms.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

_Eyes._

Lots of them.

Forty-two pairs, to be exact. Forty-two sets of leering, passive, condescending, sympathetic, austere, all-seeing, unblinking, floating, bodiless ___eyes _of the highest-ranking Egyptian gods and goddesses_._ ___Eye__s _that gleamed and bulged like scarab beetles, ___eyes _that made Matt squirm and feel as naked as a newborn.

_Cheaters – _

_– children!_

Anubis had teleported them to a courtroom of some sort. Golden gallery benches were situated evenly around the antechamber, encircling Anubis and the forsaken trio like a hurricane's rain band. The invisible gods' excited telepathic chatter faded the moment their jackal-headed colleague bounded onto the raised platform in the center of the room, with Matt, Mello and Near in tow.

Matt's stomach twisted with apprehension. Where were they? This wasn't the Hall of Two Truths...was it? It looked nothing like the paintings that adorned King Tut's palace walls and ceiling. Where was the "scale"? The "feather"? Not to mention the dreaded heart-devouring croc-hippo-lion hybrid monster, Ammut?

_Let the judgments begin__._

"Oh no," Matt whimpered.

_Oh, yes. _Anubis sounded bored, as though he had done this over a million times – which was probably the most likely scenario, anyway._ This is what you __desired__, was it not?_

Mello's head snapped up eagerly. "No!" the blond man blurted. "If we still have a choice, then I want out!"

_That was a rhetorical question__._

Anubis conjured up a scroll out of thin air and levitated it toward the three huddled men. The parchment automatically began to stretch before their eyes. Inked hieroglyphs wriggled on the paper, animated by magic. Slowly but surely, the symbols twisted themselves into a more familiar form: the English alphabet.

"What is this?" Matt whispered, entranced despite himself.

_The 42 Declarations of_ _Ma'at. You must recite them __and face the gods__ before submitting your hearts to be weighed._

The trio leaned forward to study the floating document. Matt's lightning-quick eyes zipped through the written list, his heart sinking with every word he read.

_The Declaration of Innocence_

_1. I have not done evil._

_... _

_9. I have not told lies._

_..._

_16. I have not spied._

_... _

_20. I have not defiled myself. _

_... _

_31. I have not had a hasty heart._

_..._

_42. I have not cursed god in my town._

Matt flinched. "We'd be committing perjury," he told Mello quietly.

"You think?" the blond man hissed, glancing around as if searching for an escape route. There were none – no doors, no windows, nothing. "This isn't fair. It's not supposed to end this way...not yet...we need more time…"

Matt was instantly hit by a stroke of inspiration. "Time!" he yelped. "That's it!"

"What?"

"Any crimes we've committed in the future, they haven't occurred yet," Matt explained triumphantly. "We can't be punished for something that hasn't happened!"

Mello's face lit up, but his hopes were quickly dashed when Anubis let out a bark of laughter.

_Fools! Souls are timeless entities. The Weighing Scale will see all. _

Near's expression was unreadable. "In that case, I will go first, then."

"N-No, you can't do this!" Mello spluttered, grabbing his rival's arm. "If you do, there won't be anyone left to stop Kira!"

Near blinked. "Kira is the least of our worries right now," the smaller blond declared. "And as I have said before, I have nothing to be afraid of."

Matt gaped at him. "Really, Near?"

Mello jabbed a furious finger at the thirty-ninth line. _"I have not been boastful."_

"I am never boastful –"

"Number thirty five," Mello continued bluntly, _"I have not made trouble."_

Near considered this. "Mr. Anubis," he called over to the waiting death god.

Anubis looked surprised. _Yes?_

"Some of these statements are rather redundant and quite outdated. I would suggest refining the list before subjecting more of the deceased to this ritual," Near said serenely, coiling a lock of his color-restored hair around a slender digit.

_WHAT?_

The courtroom was plunged into chaos. Half of the gods screeched with telepathic laughter, while the other half stomped their invisible feet against the floor in outrage. Mello looked ready to bolt. Matt clutched Near's shoulders in horror. "You idiot!"

Near shrugged Matt's hands away. "Take these for example," Near pointed out. _"I have not killed people. I have not been violent. I have not quarreled. _Such declarations already rule out all the soldiers in Egypt, the men who go to war in your honor. Murder is a crime, yet how many have of them have you judged as guiltless heroes?"

There was a chorus of protest at this. _Insolent boy –!_

Near barreled on, refusing to be deterred. "I am not being insolent. I am merely pointing out the fact that bias _clearly _plays a role in this particular ritual. Obviously, we will not be shown the same kind of mercy. _This_ is not true justice. This is an unrealistic standard littered with archaic laws and loopholes created by favoritism. They're formalities, really."

Matt clapped a terrified hand over his mouth. Mello, on the other hand, cocked his head inquisitively. Near wasn't usually this passionate, nor was he talkative. What was going on…?

_Such compelling arguments! Okay, I shall humor you. Let us skip the formalities, as you wish. _

A stifling silence fell over the room as a single female figure emerged from the far back of the gallery, shimmering into the visible spectrum. At first glance, she looked like an ordinary mortal human, but then pearly feathers suddenly sprouted from the underside of her arms, and she leapt, soaring over the rows of seats and through the air like an angel.

The goddess landed on the dais in front of the trio. She plucked three translucent feathers from her extended limbs before the wings melted back into her skin. With a twinge, Matt noted that her dress matched the shade of his beloved Camaro, which, at this rate, he would probably never see again.

_I am Ma'at, goddess of truth and justice. Greetings, Nate River._

Near eyed her warily. "Well then, I'm prepared for judgment. What do I do?" he asked, twirling his hair faster and faster.

The woman smiled reassuringly. _Relax. _She extended a hand and gently brushed aside the flaps of Near's cloak. The pale youth shivered as Ma'at pressed her tanned fingers against his ribcage.

"What are you doing?" Near murmured, shooting his two companions a slightly alarmed look.

_I am taking your heart. _

With that, the goddess of truth and justice plunged her arm into Near's chest.

"Oh!" was all Near managed to squeak before his dark grey eyes became glassy.

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**A/N:**** Heh, Near obviously likes to stall for time and make controversial remarks. It's in his nature. **

**Trivia – in paintings, the feather of Ma'at is usually depicted as white, gold, green or blue, while the gods/goddesses are usually depicted wearing white, red or green clothing.**

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: TheCatchingLightAlchemist, akatsukifan (__mwaha, thank yaaa :D__), Kishimojin, Kira the Wolf,__ Eternally1Yours, somebodykillme, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever_

*******Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow***** ****^_^**


	12. Verdict

**A/N: **This is for anyone who happens to be a Family Guy fan – coincidentally, I just finished watching the episode where Stewie sticks his hand into Meg's chest and pulls out her heart, chanting "Kali Ma!" (which is a parody of an Indiana Jones movie). I couldn't get that scene out of my head while writing this. Haha. Oh well, onwards!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters :(

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**Chapter 12: Verdict**

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_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

Matt opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

Nestled in the centre of Ma'at's divine palm was a wet lump of veiny muscle that was Near's heart: crimson, glistening, pulsating. A mixture of fascination and disgust welled up inside him. Matt couldn't help but think that the bright, rich color didn't suit Near. He had always thought of him as a walking, talking mass of thin bones, grandpa hair and white blood cells – a medical anomaly.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

No matter how hard the horrified redhead tried, he was unable to tune out the dull thumping of Near's heart. Mello, on the other hand, was staring at the bloody thing as though hypnotized.

Ma'at smiled kindly at the two remaining Wammy alumni. _Do not worry. As you are already aware, the undead cannot feel physical pain. _

_Thud-thud._

Near had stumbled backwards into the death god's waiting arms; Anubis was cradling him like a swooned damsel. The SPK leader's face was blissfully blank, and there was a faint pearly light radiating from his skin where Ma'at arm had reemerged from.

_Ammut, _Anubis crooned, and suddenly a terrible creature was at his side, prowling the stage impatiently and snapping its scaly jaws at whoever dared to meet its eyes. Yellow fangs gleamed in the low light provided by the clumps of motionless fireflies that filled the amphitheatric courtroom.

_Beautiful, is she not?_

Ammut growled at Mello first, and then Matt. Her breath stank of rotten flesh. The doomed hearts of King Tut's priests, perhaps?

Matt tore his gaze away from the strings of slobber stretching between the demon's mouth and the floor. "She" was one of the most hideous things he had ever seen in his life. The paintings that he had seen earlier in King Tut's hall didn't do the Eater of Hearts enough justice. There was nothing attractive about the way a bloated hippopotamus's bottom was awkwardly jutting out of a feline torso, nor was there anything elegant about the coppery strands of a lion's mane pouring from a puke-green reptilian head. Wicked cool, maybe, in a twisted Frankenstein's monster sort of way.

But beautiful?

"Fuck, no," Mello spat out at the same time Matt said, "Beauty is subjective."

_Quite true, _the jackal-headed god announced._ Shall we proceed with the judgments? Ammut is getting restless and hungry._

_Anubis, if I did not know any better, I would say that you are enjoying yourself entirely too much._

With a snap of her fingers, Ma'at summoned another one of the invisible deities. A human-avian hybrid materialized at the goddess's side, holding a stone tablet in one hand and a massive set of scales in the other. He placed the two-panned instrument down by Ma'at's feet.

_Thank you, Thoth._

Thoth withdrew a slim pen from the folds of his bottom garments and held it poised above the slab of stone. The bird-headed scribe blinked his beady eyes as his celestial wife. _Name?_

_Nate River_, Ma'at replied.

Thoth scribbled away on his tablet. He shifted uncomfortably and turned his attention to the golden scales, asking the question that everyone in the vicinity – god, goddess, human or heart-devouring demon – had been waiting for from the very start.

_Verdict?_

Ma'at placed a single feather in one of the measuring plates, and dropped Near's beating heart into its counterpart. The organ landed with a sickening _splat _and began to throb even faster_. _

The balance bar swayed.

_Thud-thud._

Mello's eyes darted back and forth as he tracked the scale's jerky movements. Matt watched with bated breath. Near had been certain that he would be "judged" successfully, yet even the high priests that the Grand Vizier had purposely thrown to the dogs had failed. There was no way Near, the arrogant and manipulative prick that he could be, was purer than a priest. Or was there?

There was a loud screech as the balance beam tilted, and the weighing pan containing the feather of truth lowered itself just inches above the floor.

Mello's eyes bulged in shock.

The air whooshed out of Matt's lungs.

_Pass_, Ma'at confirmed.

Thoth nodded and jotted down the result. If the ibis-headed man was surprised, he didn't show it.

The invisible audience of gods and goddesses were abuzz with both confusion and excitement. Angry curses, smug jeers and delighted laughs assaulted Matt's mind.

_What is going on?_

_Preposterous! _

_The scale must be broken. There is no other explanation._

_Ma'at is losing her touch!_

Said goddess ignored this. Instead, she proceeded to transfer Near's heart back into his body. The small teenager's pale chest swallowed the steadily pumping organ, and the luminescent sheen vanished from his skin. Near's glassy-eyed look was instantly replaced by a shrewd and triumphant expression. He wrenched himself from Anubis's apparently offending grasp and shuffled back to Matt's side.

"Are you alright?" Matt exclaimed.

The pale youth brushed an imaginary speck off his shoulder. "Never been better," he intoned.

Ma'at beckoned for Mello to step forward. The blond hesitated, apprehension written all over his face.

"Is it my turn?"

_No._

"Huh?"

Amusement was etched into Ma'at's soft but strict features. _Why did you not tell us you had been in contact with the Shinigami?_

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**A/N: Trivia – the ancient Egyptians believed that the brain had no purpose, and that it was the heart that was the true source of human wisdom, emotions, memories and personality.**

**Well, Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays)! :D **

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Kira the Wolf, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, Sarapsys, akatsukifan (lol little Near is safe for now xD), Kishimojin, Friday, bffs4evaMattandMello, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, CharizardCyndi~ _

***Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg* ^_^**


	13. The Bribe

**A/N: **First off, Happy belated Birthday to Lord Voldemort (sorry, I just had to!), and I wish everyone a wonderful New Year ^_^

I also apologize for the longer than usual wait – I got a brand new laptop and it took ages to configure everything! Eep D:

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters.

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**Chapter 13: The Bribe**

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A telepathic chorus of both glee and distress arose from the godly audience. Anubis himself looked as though he had been slapped.

Ma'at held up her hand, signaling for silence. She returned her gaze to the oldest of the three Wammy alumni.

_In order to come into contact with them, you must have touched one of their notebooks. Is this true?_

"Uh…"

Mello rounded on Near.

"What did you tell her?" the blond hissed, confirming Ma'at's suspicions.

"Nothing that she couldn't see for herself," Near answered, unperturbed by Mello's palpable agitation. "She read my mind like a book."

_And it would make a very interesting book, indeed._

Matt noticed that the demon, Ammut, had suddenly stopped drooling. In fact, the reptilian-mammal hybrid was glaring at Mello as though the blond was a disease-ridden hunk of steak.

Anubis wore a similar expression of annoyance. He sniffed loudly. _I cannot, in good conscience, allow Ammut to consume a soul that has been tainted with Shinigami magic._

Mello's hand automatically flew to his chest at this.

Ma'at tut-tutted consolingly. _What Anubis means to say is that we cannot allow a person that has been exposed to other realms to enter our afterlife without the privilege of choice. It is not that you are impure, but innocent or not, the three of you hold knowledge of other gods, and therefore, we must forfeit exclusive jurisdiction over you. We cannot justly impose our own rules upon you when you are aware of others. _

Anubis folded his arms. _You could have saved us a lot of trouble if you had mentioned our cousins in the first place. Silly mortals. _The underworld guardian's nostrils flared in contempt.

"Your cousins?" Matt exclaimed.

"Well, it's not like we would've known _that_!" Mello bristled.

_What? Do you really think that I am the only death god in existence? That Osiris is the only king that rules Paradise? Do you really think that the Duat is the only purgatory that resides in this universe? That the Two Fields is the only heaven for the innocent or deserving? Just as you humans have different nations, us gods have ours._

Mello's eyes glimmered with hope, which quickly hardened into victory. "That's reasonable."

Near smiled knowingly.

Matt's mind was reeling. He had been an atheist his entire life. Religion had never interested nor rang true with him. It had even taken him approximately a fortnight to come to terms with the existence of Shinigami and Kira's supernatural weapon, via Mello's word.

Up until this point, he had purposely overlooked the fact that the ancient Egyptians hadn't only been dabblers in magic, but had also been one of the most religiously-bound civilizations in all of history. These _gods _and _goddesses _weren't just mythical extraterrestrials – they were divine beings, worshipped by the human race. They weren't just fantastical figures born from legends, created to scare people into following moral laws.

They were real.

And as for the heart-devouring demon…

_Those who are eaten cease to exist. _

_Mu._

_Nothingness._

As if on cue, Ammut opened her mouth to yawn and Matt caught a glimpse of the gaping black vortex that emulated the fate of guilty Egyptians.

"Did you know this would happen?" Mello demanded, eyeing Near skeptically.

"I had a hunch."

Mello let out a loud guffaw. "Sure, why not." Underneath the bravado, Matt could detect a note of relief in the ex-Mafioso's voice.

"I also have a hunch that because there is no reason to keep us captive, Ma'at will return us to the mortal realm, as we are not truly among the dead…"

The goddess nodded.

"…and that she will give us what we came for to, ah, _buy_ our silence. The honey."

Ma'at didn't even hesitate.

_Deal._

Matt exchanged an excited glance with Mello. This was it. They were seconds away from youthful immortality.

Anubis looked resigned when Ma'at gestured for Thoth to put away his tablet and pen. Her bird-headed husband did so wordlessly and promptly dissolved into thin air, presumably joining the rest of his invisible associates in the gallery.

Ma'at unsheathed her _ankh _key from her belt, and for a moment, Matt could've sworn he heard a soft, prayerful chanting emit from the metal object. A crystal vial of amber liquid materialized in Near's outstretched hands.

_Ambrosia does not make one immortal forever – it just stops one from dying. Remember this._

"What is ambrosia made of, exactly?" Near asked reverently.

_Faith. Just as the Shinigami require human lives to add onto their own life spans, we require human faith to feed us as their deities. Gods are only as strong as the belief invested in them – when faith in a godly race dies, so does our magic. This is how ancient religions and civilizations are lost. We exist simply to those that worship us, just as heavens and hells exist for those who believe in it._

Apparently, the rest of the gods in the vicinity understood the gravity of the situation; they were as quiet as stones. Near was essentially blackmailing them with the Wammy trio's familiarity of the Shinigami race. If word got out to the Egyptian mortals that Osiris was not the ultimate King as they had always thought, their belief system would crumble, and Osiris's kingdom would fall apart without its source of power.

_If you do not uphold your end of the bargain, I will personally see to it that you are punished for eternity, _Ma'at added, her pitch-black eyes roaming over each of the three geniuses. _This also goes for the events that are occurring in your natural time, Nate River. _

"Kira will remain a secret," Near promised.

Ma'at's severe expression diminished. _See to it that Thebes gains an heir. Grand Vizier Ay shall get what he deserves for his treachery when he finally reaches us in the afterlife._

Matt frowned in confusion. "Wait… hasn't he been here before?"

The goddess shook her head. _No. _

"And the high priests?" Mello said slowly.

_There were never any priests. _

"Ay must've gotten rid of them somewhere in the Duat," Near said confidently. "And since he couldn't follow us this time, he messed with the spells and sent us straight to the Hall, hoping that we would be penalized for trying to take a shortcut."

"Well, I'll be giving him a piece of my mind," Mello muttered darkly.

"Me too," Near responded, reaching for his two companions' wrists.

Matt glanced down in surprise at the soft touch. He flexed his fingers experimentally; the gamer's knuckles popped audibly, sending ticklish jolts of pain through his bones.

He could feel again.

The spell was wearing off… no, rather, Ma'at and Anubis were lifting the Vizier's enchantment off of the three boys. And as the illusions slipped from their physical forms, a soothing blanket of darkness fell upon them, wrapping them up and whisking them off to where they were most expected – dead or alive.

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**A/N: I find it pretty disappointing that Death Note has a million religious/philosophical overtones (especially in the anime) yet none of them are exactly explored properly, except in fan fiction. Ah well, more fun for us ^_^**

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Kira the Wolf, akatsukifan (thanks for the amazing encouragement, hope your holidays were happy as well! :D), TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Kishimojin (Merry Christmas to you too! I'm ecstatic you loved the…surprise :P), CharizardCyndi, MyChemicalDarkness, bffs4evaMattandMello, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, Friday (thank you! Haha, I do like sharing random trivia xD), anon (I'm assuming your name was something like "Near is an idiot" before it was censored out, lol! But thanks for your wonderful review in regards to Mello!), Pink Star Art, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss ~ _

***Voldy's gone moldy…* **

**Oh wait… **


	14. Stalemate

**A/N:** Happy Three Kings (aka Epiphany) Day, everyone! In fact, this chapter was especially named for today, although it's already past midnight... ^_^

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the historical figures or the Death Note cast.

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**Chapter 14: Stalemate**

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_"Besides, I thought ambrosia granted eternal life?"_

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"Oof!"

"Geroff, you're –"

"We're back," Matt said breathlessly, taking in the familiar sight of the two-dimensional paintings of the Weighing Scale above them. Ma'at and Anubis had returned them safely, albeit roughly, to the Theban palace throne room – to the past-present of the human realm. "You guys, we're _back_!"

The redhead teen yanked his tangled friends apart before pulling them to their feet. Mello took a vicious swipe at his gravel-covered posterior.

"Why couldn't we have been teleported on top of pillows or something?" Near grumbled.

"You shouldn't be complaining," Mello snapped. "I broke both of your falls."

"You are alive!_" _cried three new voices.

The trio spun around to see King Tutankhamun and his wife rushing toward them. Grand Vizier Ay trailed behind the royal couple, the leather-bound Book of the Dead dangling limply from his hand.

Matt smirked. _Foiled._

"You fell… from the ceiling..." Ay spluttered.

"From the heavens," Mello corrected him.

"Mission complete," Near announced, dangling the ambrosia-filled vial in front of their eager faces.

The golden liquid swirled and swished within the crystal container, enticing the entire group with its promise of everlasting youth. _I wonder what it tastes like, _Matt thought curiously. After a moment of reverential silence, King Tut tore his gaze from their celestial prize and cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes. We're splitting this four ways, correct?" Near murmured, uncorking the gilded stopper. Mello shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, yes," Tut breathed, and the snowy-haired boy handed the pharaoh the vial.

Tut lifted the ambrosia to his lips, muttering a quick prayer of thanks before taking a delicate sip. He shuddered and broke out into a huge grin.

"I feel happy," Tut whispered, "and warm." He passed the crystal tube back to Near, who promptly pocketed it.

"It would be wiser to save it for when we return to our own time," Near explained.

Mello nodded. "Good idea."

"My scribes were right in choosing you," the Egyptian teenager declared, sinking to his knees and clasping his hands together. His wife followed suit, as did Ay. The latter's wrinkled face was frozen in a mask of shock. If Matt hadn't known better, he would've mistaken the vizier's expression for awe.

"Get up," Mello demanded. "Even I can't condone a king bowing before a commoner."

Matt could've sworn the blond man was blushing.

"Your modesty is admirable, but you three are anything but commoners," Tut insisted. "You have outdone my high priests, some of the most intelligent and skilled men in this kingdom…"

Nonetheless, he complied, gesturing for his wife and advisor to do the same. "Pray tell me, how did you find the sphinxes, their riddles? Piece of cake, I would presume?"

"Actually," Near piped up, "we didn't find them at all."

The young pharaoh looked politely puzzled. "Excuse me?"

"We never got to meet them," Matt clarified, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. Beside him, Mello gave the tiniest of nods.

They couldn't let Ay know that they were on to him. Not yet, anyway.

"Yeah," said Mello. "Somehow we skipped over the Duat and ended up in the Hall of Two Truths on our first try. Funny, isn't it?"

Matt cringed. Fortunately, the three Egyptians seemed oblivious to Mello's poorly disguised sarcasm.

Tut stared at him. "The _Duat_?"

"That's what your gods call the underworld."

"Interesting," Tut mused, tilting his head to look at his grandfather. "Ay, did you know that?"

"No, I did not," the vizier gritted out. Ay eyed Mello suspiciously. "Did you talk to them, then?"

"Yeah. Anubis is pretty cool once you get to know him," the blond retorted. Again, his sarcasm seemed to fly over the elder's head.

"Ankhe, I would like you to tend to my scribes and have them revise the library scrolls," Tut ordered, his bronzed cheeks darkened further with excitement. "Today has been a monumental day for Egypt. We have been blessed with more knowledge of the afterlife."

"As you wish," Ankhesenamun said, beaming at her husband. She swept out of the throne room, humming a happy tune. It was obvious to everyone that the woman was already daydreaming about naming her first son.

It was also obvious that Tut had gotten rid of her to address the proverbial elephant in the room.

"I must apologize," the pharaoh began. "I am not properly trained in magic, so I was taking a big risk when I helped the others use the Book of the Dead. Perhaps that was why –"

"You're not to blame," Near said firmly.

"How can you be so sure?"

Near moved in for the kill. "Because according to Ma'at, your men never even made it to the Hall. We are a hundred percent certain that Ay assassinated your high priests, and he tried to do the three of _us_ in as well."

There was a stunned silence, which was broken mere seconds later when the vizier took a step backward, growling and gasping for breath.

"Ay," Mello said sleekly, "the jig's up. Game over."

"Grandfather?" Tut exclaimed. "Is this true?"

Ay blinked rapidly. "My king, I –"

"That was a simple 'yes' or 'no' question," Tut hissed, drawing himself to his full height. The pharaoh seemed to crackle with energy as he stared down the man who had always been his closest advisor.

Matt fully expected the vizier to shrink beneath the condemning gaze of his young superior – to shrivel up and beg for mercy and forgiveness.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

In the blink of an eye, Ay drew back a leg, and before anyone could react, he delivered a swift blow to Tut's shin. There was an audible _crack, _and the pharaoh howled, crumpling to the floor.

"No!" Mello bellowed, lunging for the older man.

But he was no match for a seasoned fighter protected by armored robes. Mello was sent sprawling to the ground, clutching his chest, where an angry bruise was already blossoming across his skin.

"Mello!" Matt and Near cried out simultaneously.

In the split second that Matt and Near had turned their attention to their fallen comrade, Ay was free to raise the Book of the Dead high above him and bring it down with a sickening crunch just below Tut's crown headdress – which was exactly what he did. By the time Matt and Near whirled around, it was already too late.

Ay tossed the Book to the side and fled the room, screaming, "Murderers! Murderers!"

Before them lay the boy king, dead and forever youthful.

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_"It does, only as everlasting youth. It does not, however, protect one against physical damage. Once a body dies, the soul departs."_

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**A/N: Trivia – the concept of the "Duat" wasn't completely formed until the New Kingdom (Tut's era).**

**The time-traveling "rule" that I used for this fic was the Novikov self-consistency principle, which basically states that "nothing can be changed because anything a traveler does merely produces the circumstances they had noted before traveling"; the same concept was used in Harry Potter (with the Time Turners) and the Time Traveler's Wife. **

**That is why Tut was ultimately unable to escape his untimely death, as you have just seen :( **

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Eternally1Yours, akatsukifan (aw, thank you yet again :D), Pink Star Art, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, Kira the Wolf, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, Friday (ah, interesting! I'm glad you're liking the chars as well ^^), Kishimjoin~_

***We three kings of Orient are/ Bearing gifts we traverse afar* (for relevance, lol)**


	15. The Not So Great Escape

**A/N:** "The Mummy" was on earlier this week and I almost exploded with fangirl happiness. Unfortunately, it also reminded me how disappointing the 2008 threequel was; nothing could ever beat the Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz duo :/

**Disclaimer: **As always! ^_^

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**Chapter 15: The Not-So-Great Escape**

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"No!" Matt yelled. "Tut!"

A dark pool of blood was rapidly forming underneath the pharaoh's shattered skull, seeping out across the stone tiles. The redhead automatically tore a strip off his robe's sleeve with his teeth, but suddenly found himself being dragged away by Mello and Near instead.

"What are you doing? There's still time to save him!"

"It's too late," came Near's swift response. "We must leave at once."

His last words were almost drowned out by a deep keening noise that rocked the very walls; horns were being sounded simultaneously, alerting all those within the palace and the surrounding area that they were under attack. There was no doubt that Grand Vizier Ay was well on his way to debrief General Horembeb and his men to secure his own alibi and issue an order to arrest Matt and his alleged accomplices.

"We'll need this," Mello declared, snatching up the slightly bloodied Book of the Dead and gesturing for the others to follow.

They ran out of the throne room and dashed down the corridors, their bare feet slapping dully against the ornate rugs – rugs that were most certainly handcrafted by Asiatic slaves.

_Speak of the devil, _Matt thought as approximately thirty slaves spilled out of the rooms and down the staircases, clutching elongated trumpets made of bronze and silver. They stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted the wanted trio sticking out like sore thumbs in all their pale-skinned, blond, white and red-haired glory.

The slaves recovered quickly. "Over there! Get them!" They rushed forward, eyes gleaming at the prospect of being rewarded for capturing the fugitives.

"Oi! Heads up!" Mello shouted over the commotion.

Matt spun around just in time catch the Book square in the chest, ignoring the painful impact it made against his congealing wounds. He flipped it open to a random page. His heart immediately sank – he could only recognize one or two of the mystical symbols. Most of them were beyond ancient.

Then realization struck him.

Matt heaved the spellbook high above his head, hoping desperately that it would work, and shouted, "Abracadabra, hocus pocus, alakazam –"

It worked.

A chorus of frightened and confused squeals erupted all around them as the slaves dove for cover. Matt seized this opportunity to relieve the nearest man of his less-than-lethal instrument; Mello and Near did the same.

"This is pathetic."

"It's better to be armed than to be defenseless," Matt said pointedly.

"You call this being armed?"

"Can we move along? It's only a matter of time before they discover you haven't got an ounce of magical knowledge in you," Near murmured, eyeing the group of trembling slaves warily.

"And where do you propose we start? In case you've forgotten, we were _blindfolded _on our way in!" Mello grabbed the closest trumpetless slave by the collar of his shabby robes. "You! Lead us to our belongings!"

"I d-do not know w-what you m-mean," the tanned man blubbered.

"Don't lie to me," Mello snarled, tightening his fist in the stained cotton. "You and your friends were probably spying on us when we came in. Where did General Horembeb put our things? Our clothes, our weapons… my necklace?"

"P-probably in the t-treasury…" The slave swallowed hard. "The v-vaults are d-downstairs…"

"Take us there," Matt interrupted, waving the Book in front of the Asiatic man's face, "unless you want me to place a curse on you and your descendants. And no funny business, either."

"Abominations," the older man said weakly. "Assassins."

But he complied, leading the trio down the hall while the other slaves parted to make way for their fellow colleague and the rogue "assassins"; the rest of them had been struck dumb with fear.

When the quartet rounded the corner, out of sight and earshot of the thirty-something slaves, Near stopped.

_We should split up_, their youngest member signed. His hands were a white blur of motion, but Matt could process the words just as easily as if they were being vocalized. _I am going to find the pharaoh's wife and convince her to help us. Ankhe is the only one other than Ay who can read the Book and send us back to the future._

The slave stared at Near's digits as though flames were going to shoot out of their very tips.

Near cleared his throat. "Nothing General Horembeb took from me was of value," he announced for the slave's benefit. "I will seek… an escape route… while you retrieve your items."

"And the rendezvous point?"

Near considered this, twisting a curl around his index finger as he ran through the possibilities. _Tut's throne room, _he finally signaled._ It should not take them long to clear out his body, and nobody will suspect that we would return to the scene of the crime_.

Matt and Mello nodded curtly to show that they understood.

"You," Near said, addressing the slave.

"W-what?"

"Where is the library?"

"U-upstairs… it is h-huge… you c-cannot miss it…"

And just like that, without so much as a good-bye, the SPK leader was gone, presumably in search of the nearest flight of stairs, and ultimately, Ankhesenamun.

"Alright, show us the money," Mello growled, linking arms with their captive slave. Matt snagged the other arm.

"M-money?"

"He means the treasury," the redhead prompted.

The Asiatic man let out a horrified squeak. "P-please, I am only a s-servant! There are t-traps down there that o-only my m-masters can d-deactivate!"

A maniac glint shone in Mello's bright azure eyes. Matt took an involuntary step backward; he knew that look.

"Challenge accepted," Mello said softly, his mouth curving up in disdain.

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**A/N: Haha, he is so dramatic :P**

**Sort-of spoiler: The next chapter will be the longest (and craziest) one yet. **

**Trivia – During the time of the New Kingdom, slaves employed by the Egyptians included other Africans, Jews and Asiatics (Asians). They were actually fairly treated and well-fed, working as house servants, musicians, accountants, etc. **

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: TheCatchingLightAlchemist, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, Pink Star Art, Lady Friday, akatsukifan (haha, I'm sorry ^_^ and you're absolutely right! Thank you again :D), Kira the Wolf, JesslovesLawliet, bffs4evaMattandMello, Kishimjoin, Sarapsys~_

***insert that famous generic-sounding Egyptian/Arabic snake charming tune that's actually called Kradoutja* **


	16. Heist

**A/N: **I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Maybe too much fun. Hence the longer than usual wait ^_^

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters belong to me. Not even that random slave, because that would be cruel.

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**Chapter 16: Heist**

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The tunnels burrowed below the main floor of the palace were well-lit by hundreds of shallow alabaster oil lamps peeking out of the sanded walls. Inscriptions were engraved into the ceiling, warning any potential thieves of curses and traps.

"Technically, we're not stealing anything," Mello declared, ignoring the stammered translations of the slave who was guiding them.

"We're just taking back what's rightfully ours," Matt added, thinking of his smokes and gaming gear. Personally, he thought it silly to risk their lives for things that could easily be replaced or were worth more in sentiment than anything else, but it was Mello, and abandoning his most prized belongings was on par with betraying himself – a surrender of sorts.

Fortunately, not a single guard was in sight; all of the palace sentries had been dispatched to search for the pharaoh's killers. Apparently, it hadn't occurred to any of them that the rogue fugitives were audacious enough to break into the vaults for their confiscated possessions.

"So, what are we up against?" Mello asked, cracking his knuckles.

"I-I d-do not know f-for certain…"

"Anything from pitfalls to wires," Matt cut in, subconsciously slipping into his comfort zone. This wouldn't be too difficult – it was just another system to beat. Robbery and hacking were the same game played by different rules. The objective: infiltration. And the reward?

Well, that was up to the player.

The trio ventured deeper into the passageway, eventually coming across a set of stairs spiraling lower underground. Mello's arm shot out to prevent Matt from going any further. The blond rounded on the sniveling Asiatic slave, who flinched and raised his arms as though protecting himself from an impending attack.

"You go first," Mello commanded.

The older man whimpered and shook his head frantically.

Mello clicked his tongue. "Then," he said flatly, "you have outlived your usefulness."

Matt turned his head in time; there was a resounding _thump_ as the man collapsed to the gravel-covered ground. The redhead hugged the Book tightly to his chest, feeling his heart thud furiously against his ribcage.

"You didn't…you didn't have to..."

"I didn't actually kill him, you idiot," Mello muttered, crouching down to inspect the slave's body. With a start, Matt noticed the steady rise and fall of the man's cotton-clad chest. Mello had merely rendered him unconscious. _But why?_

As if to answer Matt's unspoken question, Mello reached for the slave's left ankle and snapped it as effortlessly as if the bones inside had been made of chalk. He did the same to the right one.

"This way, it'll be too difficult for him to run off and tell anyone that we're down here," Mello explained, standing up. "As for sparing his life, I'm not going to risk obliterating a family tree. I don't want to alter history anymore than we already have, not if I can help it. If he dies today, it won't be by our hands."

"…I understand."

Mello squinted into the impenetrable darkness beyond the descending staircase. "We'll need some light down here. I'll get us a lamp." He turned to double back.

"No, wait!" Matt cried out in alarm. "For all we know, they could be rigged."

"The _lamps_? Rigged?"

Matt nodded. "What better way to stop intruders than to catch them before they could actually breach the treasury? Anyone who's familiar with the vaults would most likely know well enough to bring a candle or torch beforehand. No, the lamps are there to merely to tempt and bait us."

Mello let out a growl of frustration. "Time to get creative, then." The blond shrugged off his cloak and began twisting it into an oblong bundle. "This will have to do."

Matt watched as the nude boy made his way to the nearest wall pocket and dunked the tip of his robes into the pale stone lamp, which was filled to the brim with castor oil. Mello was careful not to disturb the bowl itself as he transferred the greasy cloth to the flickering flame at the end of the wick.

There was a faint _vhoom_ as Mello's makeshift torch burst to life.

"Shit," Matt breathed. "Be careful."

The blond swung the flaming bundle downward so that the fire was pointing toward the sandy floor. "I'll give it one minute at most before it burns up."

Matt yanked off his robes as well and hastily dabbed a sleeve into the same lamp, drenching it with oil for later use. "Make that two."

The pair wasted no time venturing down the stairs, following the sandaled footprints that General Horembeb had so thoughtfully left behind after his last visit. The faded tracks would've been invisible if it hadn't been for Mello's cotton torch, which was shriveling into ashes by the second.

There was a noticeable discrepancy on the last two steps: the layers of sand sitting on top of them were undisturbed, like virgin snow. Mello and Matt jumped and landed safely at the foot of the stairs, clearing the obvious triggers.

Mello hissed in surprise. "Look…"

Matt glanced up, following Mello's gaze. There were several large boulders strapped above the entranceway, only visible now that they were on the other side of the wall. A nervous and giddy sweat broke out on his brow. Matt quickly turned his attention to the rest of the chamber.

"Hold on," he whispered.

The redhead scooped up handful of sand and tossed it high into the air. For a fleeting moment, the airborne grains exposed the deadly trap that awaited them.

As he had predicted, there were thin taut ropes stretched across the vault at neck and stomach level, ready to decapitate and disembowel any trespassers who walked right into them. Unsanctioned visitors would have no choice but to get on their knees and crawl – if they still had their heads on their shoulders, that was.

But Matt and Mello were no ordinary unsanctioned visitors. Using their improvised torch, they traced General Horembeb's footsteps to the corner of the chamber, painstakingly edging along the wall without touching it. There, a tiny lever jutted out of one of the bricks. The naked gamer felt a familiar thrill of joy as he pulled it down, successfully loosening the wiry ropes that now dangled limply mid-air.

"Score!" he crowed.

"Don't celebrate just yet," Mello muttered, gesturing for Matt to hand over his own bundle of oiled robes. Soon enough, they had another minute of light to rely on.

The men scrambled across the room, careful not to stray from General Horembeb's trodden path. Shelves and chests of the deceased pharaoh's personal toys, jewels and weapons loomed above them on the opposite wall, but Matt had his heart set on only one type of treasure, as did Mello.

"Come to Daddy," Mello said reverently, launching himself into the search.

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Two floors and half a mile above his fellow successors, Near was maneuvering through the aisles of the silent palace library. The hood of his cloak was pulled protectively over his head, shielding his telltale white curls from sight.

The SPK leader padded past shelf after shelf of papyrus scrolls and books, fully aware of the vast treasury of knowledge that was just inches beyond his physical grasp. It irked him that he couldn't look nor touch.

Ankhesenamun was buried deep in the archives, hovering over the shoulders of two scribes. She looked startled by Near's arrival.

"How did you get in here?"

"There weren't any guards," Near answered uncomfortably.

The unknowing widow stared at him. "Where are they?"

"Here and there." Near blinked owlishly at the older woman before turning to leave. "Please, we require your assistance."

Ankhe, as Tut had fondly called her, reluctantly detached herself from the scribes' side and fell into step with him. Near kept quiet until they reached the entrance, where the previously stifled chaos became audible again. The queen promptly ran to the railing and looked in horror at the commotion below them. Slaves were running up and down the corridors, as were several fully armed soldiers.

"Tut was assassinated by Ay," Near informed her, meeting her questioning gaze. "He has framed us for the murder." He paused, hesitating before saying, "I'm sorry."

The royal swayed on the spot, clutching her stomach in anguish.

Near didn't know much about ancient Egyptian politics, but he knew enough to suggest, "You'll have to find another husband if you don't want Ay usurping the throne."

"Then I will write to the Hittite King," she whispered, her dark eyes wide with fear. "Suppiluliumas has many sons. He'll become the new pharaoh of Egypt. I will never marry my grandfather, never."

Near nodded solemnly. He didn't know any other form of condolence he could offer. "My friends are waiting in the throne room with the Book of the Dead," he murmured. "We need your help sending us back to the future. Can you do that for us?"

Something sparked within the young queen's eyes. "Why should I? It is your fault my husband is dead. If you had not succeeded with your mission, Ay would not have had any reason to kill him!"

"Tutankhamun was already a ticking time bomb. He knew it, Ay knew it." Near pursed his lips. "Tut did this for _you_."

"You are a mean boy," Ankhe wept.

"I'm an honest man," Near said quietly. "I was just stating the facts."

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**A/N: This is ultimately a Matt-centric fic; however, I felt that it would be too unfair/easy if I skipped over Near's part and made him show up in the throne room just like *that* **

**Trivia – The Hittite King sent his son, Prince Zanannza, to marry Ankhe. Upon entering Egypt, he was suspiciously murdered. Tut's widow then had no choice but to marry Ay :/**

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Lady Friday, near's girl (I got the idea around Halloween xD Thanks for the reviews!), TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, akatsukifan (oh merciful Mello ^_^), Kira the Wolf, CharizardCyndi, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss ~_

**This is the penultimate chapter. I may or may not include an epilogue. We shall see! **


	17. The End

**A/N: **Ah, this is officially the longest chapter of the story. Heh (:

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note nor any of the characters that appear in this fic.

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**Chapter 17: The End**

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When the elder two of the Wammy boys stole into the throne room ten minutes later, giddy and high off their success in retrieving their confiscated property along with a few _insurances_, they were instantly brought back down to earth at the sight of the massive copper-colored stain in the middle of the floor minus a certain pharaoh's corpse.

"Oh, shit." Matt didn't know what else to say.

The ex-Mafioso turned pale, as though he was on the verge of blowing chunks. Matt watched with detached interest as Mello brought his hand to the supposedly comforting beads around his neck, the very ones which General Horembeb had earlier mistaken for thieved rubies but were now reunited with their rightful owner.

Despite himself, Matt was mystified. Yes, that was the blood of royalty, the blood of a husband, the blood of someone who had still been breathing, living and existing at sunrise only that morning, but Mello was no stranger to death. He never had been. Perhaps the explosion _had _changed his friend more than he wanted to admit – or, more likely, their most recent brush with death and eternal condemnation.

_See? No one's invincible_, he thought viciously. Then the redhead caught himself, disturbed by his own hypocrisy. _He _was the one who had been prepared to throw everything away for a piece of limited immortality. How was that any different?

Did that make him any better?

"You gotta hand it to them. These people work hella fast," Mello remarked, tearing his sickened gaze away from the ungodly smear.

"Lucky for us, not fast enough," a new voice observed.

Matt glanced up in time to see Near and Ankhesenamun stride through the doorway. From the looks of her dry but bloodshot eyes, the young widow had only just finished grieving. Her heavily-applied eyeliner, impressively enough, was still intact.

"We do not have much time," the Egyptian queen said thickly. "The guards and slaves have been deployed to seal the exits, and they shall return to search the rooms as soon as they are finished."

"Matt," Near prompted.

Matt wordlessly handed over the leather-bound volume to the older woman. Ankhe visibly flinched as she took it; although she could avoid looking at the bloody blot by their feet, she obviously couldn't avoid the one streaked across the cover of the Book of the Dead.

"Heart, shadow, name, soul, spirit," she muttered, flipping through the pages. Her fingers came to a stop at the centre of the funerary text. "Being?"

The hesitation and uncertainty in the woman's voice sent a thrill of alarm through the trio. Matt and Mello exchanged worried looks, while Near's forehead creased in displeasure.

"Can you read the spells?" Near asked.

"Yes, but the problem is that a specific spell for time travel does not reside in the Book, or any of the other Books, for that matter," Ankhesenamun explained nervously. "Only highly experienced magicians possess the ability to combine and invent enchantments that will function as they please."

Mello groaned loudly and buried his gloved hands into his hair. "There's only one person we know who fits that description."

"Exactly!"

The sound of mock applause echoed through the chamber. Matt's head jerked up as though it had been a ringing gunshot, rather than a relatively less harmful pair of hands that belonged to…

"Ay," Mello snarled. "So you found us."

"Yes," the Grand Vizier growled, unsheathing his sword. "And I see that you have broken into the vaults," he added, giving Mello and Matt's tattered, outlandish outfits a once-over. His beady eyes lingered on Matt's beloved goggles. "You are obviously much too smart to leave alive. Ankhe! Come here, my pretty bride."

The young queen, fifty years the man's junior, quietly slunk to Ay's side with the Book and shot Matt and his companions an apologetic look.

Ay smiled. "And now I shall take care of the three of you just like I did with the other fools. I will not have any witnesses running around."

"Fools? They were _high priests_ before they became your guinea pigs," Matt said, shaking with anger and disbelief.

"Pigs," Ay mused, thoughtfully tapping his blade against his hairless, pointy chin. "That is the perfect way to put it. Although, I was not only referring to the priests – I also sent a few of my slaves to the afterlife without the pharaoh's knowledge. While my silly weakling of a grandson was plotting to bring you three into our time, I was experimenting with the enchantments until I found a way to bypass the Sphinxes and deliver my men right into Anubis's hands! A little trial and error is essential for any sort of success, you see."

Matt hazarded a peek at Mello, wondering if they were sharing the same thought.

"You're despicable," Near spat out.

The vizier shrugged. "They were just a couple of farm boys. No one will miss them – there are thousands of them in Egypt. And according to the scribes…" His eyes glittered with malice as he took another step toward the trio, brandishing his weapon dangerously.

"I don't like where this is going," Matt mumbled to himself.

"…you three are orphans, are you not?" The older man threw his head back and laughed coldly. "In that case, no one will miss you either!"

"You're wrong," Mello said severely. "The future depends on us and you don't even know it."

Near cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Your victory will be short-lived, anyway," Matt sneered.

Ay's face twisted into an ugly expression. "What?"

"What he means to say is that if you don't send us back to the future," Mello cut in sharply, "we will have no choice but to use _this_!"

In ten milliseconds flat, a silver-plated Beretta was pointing directly at Ay's forehead.

The Grand Vizier chuckled. "Is that pathetic toy supposed to scare me? Whatever it is, we checked – there is no ammunition. It is unusable."

"Correction: there _was _no ammunition. But then we got a little creative downstairs with the pharaoh's treasure," Mello said, ejecting the fifteen-round magazine from his gun and holding it up for the vizier to see.

Each of the previously empty casings was now filled with shining, golden bullets that had once been precious rings, anklets and bracelets – before they had been blasphemously melted, that was.

"What in Osiris's name!" Ay spluttered.

Mello snapped the clip back in and cocked the hammer. "Send us back. Now."

The vizier eyed the gun suspiciously, as though mentally evaluating how serious the danger it posed actually was.

"You do _not_ want to find out the hard way," Matt added helpfully.

_BANG!_

Ay let out a high-pitched shriek as he dove for cover. His sword pirouetted through the air and clattered to the floor several feet behind Ankhesenamun, who quickly darted away to retrieve the blade.

As one unit, Matt, Mello and Near encircled the cowering man and pounced, pinning the flailing seventy-year-old vizier to the ground. Tut's widow hovered above them as Matt jammed a knee into Ay's groin while Mello pressed his gun against the older man's temple.

"Four against one, Vizier," Near said sleekly, perching on top of Ay's chest like a bird of prey. "I hardly have to inform you of your odds of escaping."

"Perform the spell," Mello grunted, "and we will spare your measly existence. No funny business, either, or the queen will slit your throat."

"A meaningless threat," Ay gasped painfully. "If I die here, you will perish along with me. The guards will arrest you and you will never find your way back."

"Good point," Mello drawled, impervious to the vizier's remarks. "However, your reasoning hinges on whether or not you are truly ready to die. Well, are you? Are you prepared to face Anubis and Ma'at and the Judgment, knowing that your soul has been marked with murder?"

Ay stopped resisting and fell silent.

"Send us back, and perhaps the gods will be more lenient with your sentence," Mello crooned, removing the Beretta from the older man's head.

"Saving three lives? It'll be your redemption," Near intoned.

_Hook, line and sinker._

The moment Matt noticed the glimmer of hope in Ay's eyes, he knew that everything would be alright.

**

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He was right.

When the meticulously improvised spell was finally cast by the delusional vizier, the last thing that Matt saw before a veil of dazzling light shrouded his senses was the single tear rolling down the face of the young widow, Ankhesenamun. He could only hope that their misleading assurance of salvation would be enough to lessen the misery that the queen was fated to suffer for the following four years in her own time.

It was nothing like the first time, when their entire condemned apartment had shifted into the past without them even realizing it. The light was so blinding, Matt had to squint from behind his goggles to minimize the burning sensation in his retinas. He was determined to witness this phenomenon for himself.

The pendulum swung forth, the fabric of time uncreased and stretched, the sands fell free, and for a fleeting moment, Matt could've sworn he felt something akin to thirteen red-hot pokers piercing him repeatedly before the light vanished to reveal a recognizable scene.

Mello was praying.

"… _and at the hour of our…"_

The blond's recitations suddenly ceased, and Matt stared at him, hoping, _hoping _that….

"We're back!" Mello cried out, releasing his rosary from his grasp. "Matt, tell me it wasn't a dream."

The redheaded gamer gave a sigh of relief. "It wasn't a dream," Matt confirmed, gazing down instinctively at his clothes. His vest and striped shirt were still ripped to shreds. Clotting gashes peeked out from underneath the flimsy material.

Mello checked his cell phone. "One minute past eleven," he murmured. "So the march of time actually stopped."

"For _us_," Matt said in awe. Then realization struck him. "Near! He still has the ambrosia!"

Mello shrugged easily.

"Don't you care?"

"Why should I? I didn't want or deserve it in the first place," Mello responded, moving toward the apartment window. Matt stood up to join him.

Mello brushed aside the moth-eaten curtains. The duo was greeted with the sight of familiar high-rise buildings, the glaringly colorful lights, the pulsating electric life that was _today_. Below them honked a steady stream of cars, leftovers from long hours at the office.

Japan.

"It's not exactly home sweet home," Mello said, "but at least this is where we belong for now, eh Matt?"

Matt was quiet for a moment. "This will be our grave."

"I dig my own grave," Mello replied, shutting the curtains.

The redhead was left staring after the blond.

_Then, so will I._

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**A/N: Moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for, or else you might come face to face with mummies one day. Something like that. LOL. **

_Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Friday (thanks, and you're very welcome ^_^), TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Kira the Wolf, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, x3iLoveAnime, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, akatsukifan (merci! I'm glad you liked it :D), near's girl (thanks, I'll think about it xD), bffs4evaMattandMello, Pink Star Art, CharizardCyndi ~_

**There will be a brief epilogue to "wrap" (don't look at me, I love puns) things up.**


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: **I was both smiling and cringing when I wrote this part. Death's obviously not a happy concept, and it usually shouldn't be taken lightly, but it's Matt (and it's fiction), and I don't think Matt would exactly think like a regular person.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note :(

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**Epilogue**

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_Game over._

When the first bullet struck him, he knew that he was done for. Then came the second – _thirdfourthfifthsixthseventh – _and all his thoughts and senses just flew right out the window.

He lost count after the twenty-fifth shot. He wasn't Nate River, who needed nothing more than a single glance to account for his supply of building blocks; nor was he Mihael Keehl, who obsessed over every single detail that came hurtling his way.

He was Mail Jeevas, third best. Nothing more, nothing less.

Matt had no idea what had come over him, what had prodded at his mind, stoked his blood and animated his legs so that he had climbed out of his car with a devil-may-care smile pasted on his face and cocky words on his tongue instead of pissing himself in the driver's seat from the sight of the thirteen guards staring him down. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time, a last ditch effort to talk his way out.

_Whoops, my bad. _

When he fell backwards, slamming into the hood of the car that was meant to be his getaway, not his demise, his dimming vision suddenly reddened and the breath in his lungs grew thick and heavy.

Where was the START OVER AND TRY AGAIN option when you actually needed it?

His smoke-dry lips parted in disappointment as he realized that he would never find out whether or not this was just a fruitless endeavor, whether or not Mello would survive and Near would end up defeating Kira. He had so many damn questions, so little time – no, _no_ time at all.

That uncertainty alone was overwhelmingly more painful than _this…_

_This end._

But it didn't matter now, because _now _he understood that he had already begun digging his own grave the moment he had said _yes _to Mello. With each _yes, _he had dug a little deeper. With each _yes_, he had… well, it didn't matter now.

In the end, in this end, it had been his choice. Mail Jeevas would die a free man, not a dog.

Fireworks exploded from behind his eyes, deep within his brain. He slid down to the pavement next to his metal funeral pyre, as did his last cigarette.

_No, not fireworks. Lights. Doors. Paths. _

Matt smirked drowsily.

_Anubis, ya son of a bitch – _

– _here I come._

****

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_Fin._

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**A/N: Matt actually dies with the cigarette still in his mouth. The anime changed it to make his death more…dramatic, I guess? D:**

_To akatsukifan: Thank you so much! Hehe, Mello's antics ARE somewhat amusing aren't they? xD_

_Friday: Thanks! And, unfortunately, the answer to your question was/is yes D: _

Anyway, a BIG thank you to everyone who had been following this fic till the very end! Although it didn't turn out as horror-ish as I'd originally planned, I'm pretty happy with it. I hope you found it as educational as it was strange or crazy. I wanted to spread the Ancient Egyptian love around, so there we have it.

And, to anyone who may be interested, keep an eye out for a collection of one-shots that I am planning to write in the near future, inspired by **Greek mythology**. The installments will feature Mello as an Apollo figure, Near as Artemis, Misa as Aphrodite, Light as Ares and L as Athena, etc. Genres will vary. I'm still playing around with the details (:

**Again, thanks for reading. Here, have some virtual watermelon – which is thought to have been first harvested in Egypt 5000 years ago; seeds were even found in King Tut's tomb ^_^**


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